


Lack of Wisdom

by Spinofflady



Series: Spider-Man [1]
Category: Spider-Man: Homecoming (2017)
Genre: Actually by the end of this everyone needs a hug, Emotional Baggage, Emotional Hurt, Gen, Hurt/Comfort, Peter Parker Needs a Hug, Peter Parker has exceptionally bad luck, Precious Peter Parker, This isn't just a wisdom teeth story, Tony Stark Has A Heart, Violence, Wisdom Teeth, just isn't using it yet
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-11-30
Updated: 2018-05-24
Packaged: 2019-02-08 18:52:17
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 36
Words: 61,330
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12870843
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Spinofflady/pseuds/Spinofflady
Summary: What truly bothered Peter was the fear of what he might say while the Anesthesia was still wearing off. He had seen one too many internet videos of people under the effects of the medicine saying the wildest things.Peter didn’t really care what came out of his mouth, so long as it didn’t have anything to do with Spider-man.Which, with his exceptionally bad luck, it did.Who would have thought it would turn into such a disaster?





	1. Peter Parker's Exceptionally Bad Luck

**Author's Note:**

> This is my first crack at a Spider-man fic, so let's give it some grace okay? I'm a bit out of practice so this is certainly not my greatest masterpiece.

Peter Parker was never known for having exceptionally good luck. He wasn’t really known for having any luck at all, unless it was bad luck, of course. He did have exceptionally bad luck.

Today was a perfect example of Peter Parker’s exceptionally bad luck. First of all, today was Tuesday. Tuesday’s were just as bad as Monday’s, if not worse. Second, it was fall break.

Now to any other average teenager in the United States, fall break is a wonderful thing. But Peter Parker and his exceptionally bad luck have been notorious for having the worst fall breaks ever. He was always either sick, floundering in homework, in trouble for something, or in this case, getting his wisdom teeth removed.

Now to Peter, the concept of having a total stranger knock him out and pry his teeth out with a fancy pair of pliers seemed like the ultimate horror movie. He had never undergone a surgery in his life, and truth be told, was terrified of the whole ordeal.

May had assured him it was nothing to worry about, but what truly bothered Peter was the fear of what he might say while the Anesthesia was still wearing off. He had seen one too many internet videos of people under the effects of the medicine saying the wildest things.

Peter didn’t really care what came out of his mouth, so long as it didn’t have anything to do with Spider-man.

Which, with his exceptionally bad luck, it would.

And as if the entire situation couldn’t be any worse, he had accidentally let it slip to his friends that he would be getting his wisdom teeth removed, and they decided it would be marvelously funny if they showed up at the dentistry to watch.

Luckily, they weren’t allowed to the back for the operation, and for that Peter was glad…especially since Flash was holding a video camera.

Right of the bat, things began to go wrong. One IV wasn’t enough to knock him out (probably due to the whole Spider-man thing), so the assistants had to jam another one into his other arm. They said it wouldn’t hurt, but they failed to mention that they would be wiggling the needle around in his arm in the attempts to find the vein. It definitely hurt.

But after many failed attempts, Peter Parker was finally passed out in the dentist chair.

Ned was thoroughly excited to see his friend act like all the videos he had seen. It was going to be hysterical. What would Peter say? Hours passed like minutes, as he eagerly awaited the comedy show in store.

“So, what do you guys think Parker is going to say?” Flash asked, putting his feet up on the waiting room coffee table. “Any bets that he’ll spill his deepest darkest secrets?”

“He’ll probably just cuss you out,” Michelle said flatly, never once looking up from her sketch book. “And then fall back asleep. Probably won’t even be YouTube worthy.”

“First of all, shut up, Michelle. Second, I would love to see-”

“Peter Parker is finished now.” A female technician announced from the doorway.

Ned and Flash both jumped up and followed her to Peter’s room, the others trailing slightly behind. The two entered the room, May seated in the corner chair, talking on the phone. Flash hit record and immediately found the best angle to capture all of the hilarity that was about to ensue.

“Hey, Peter,” Ned smiled broadly, walking over to the chair. “How’d it go?”

Peter looked at him and blinked slowly, his sleepy mind trying to process who it was in front of him. “Who’re…you? Oh…hiiiiii. Iss Ned.” A sloppy smile worked its way across his face. “Guysss, iss Ned. He’s…he’s a nice guy. Don’ be scared o’ him. He’sss Ned.”

Giggles erupted from the classmates crowding through the door.

Peter’s head lolled around to face them. “Hey! Don’ laugh at him. Ned’ssss a good guy. No laughing!”

The laughter only grew, as did Ned’s smile.

“I mean it!” Peter stated sternly, waving a floppy hand in their general direction. “No laughing…or I’ll web you up. Causssse I’m Spider-mannn.”

Ned’s smile instantly disappeared, and May’s head jerked up from the corner. Everyone else continued laughing.

“What are you talking about, Peter?” Ned chuckled nervously. “You aren’t Spider-man!”

“Yesss I am! I’m Spider…the spider guy. A spider-ninja! And you know. You’re the guy in my chair. And you talk in my ear and say things…like Karen.”

“Karen? Who’s Karen?” Michelle asked, pushing her way through the small group of students.

“Karen is amazing. She’s like an angel, and talks to me in my suit. I called her suit lady…” Peter broke into ripples of delirious laughter for several minutes. “She’s nice too. Like Ned. I’m gonna marry her. But I would never marry Ned.”

May stood up with a nervous smile. “Hey, guys. I think it might be best if you stepped out until Peter has had a bit more time to wake up.”

“Noooooo!” Peter stopped her. “I need my fans. My Spider-man fans. They gotta help me plan my next mission.”

“We can help you do that later,” Ned encouraged, trying to back everyone up and out of the room.

“Ned, don’ go anywhere, or I’m going to un-permote you from guy in my chair. I’ll make Karen my guy in my chair.”

“Right after you marry her, right?” Flash laughed, still recording.

“Yes. I love Karen. She’s the best of all the girls. Except Liz.”

The laughter ceased. “Liz?” Flash questioned.

“Yeah. I wanted to kiss her, but her dad tried to kill me. Now he’s in jail, so I can’t marry Liz anymore.”

“Dude, you couldn’t marry her anyway!” Flash snickered with glee. “She was way out of your league!”

The statement clearly went over Peter’s head, and May was still frantically trying to make the other students leave, somehow forgetting about Flash and Ned. Perhaps it was typical May, perhaps she thought Ned could handle the situation, but whatever it was, she couldn’t have made a graver mistake.

“So, Peter. Tell me about Spider-man.” Flash encouraged savagely, hoping to pry more juicy details out of him.

“I don’t think that’s such a good idea, Flash.” Ned attempted weakly. “Maybe you should turn the camera off. It might really embarrass Peter if he sees this.”

“Yeah, not a chance,” Flash rolled his eyes. “This is going on YouTube the minute I get home. So come on, Peter. Spider-man. Let’s go.”

“Spider-man is me. I beat up bad guys…just like this: pew! pew! pew!” Peter attempted to shoot a web from his hand, but it looked more like Darth Sidious shooting his evil space lightning.

“Who was the last bad guy you fought?” Flash persisted, still laughing.

“Really, Flash, put the camera away-”

“Shut up, already, fatso! This is classic! Hey Peter, how did you become Spider-man?”

“A spider bit me. It hurt so bad. And I cried. But now the spider’s dead, and it gave me all its powers, and I can climb walls.”

“No, Peter, you cannot climb walls.” May said sternly from the doorway. “Flash, it is time for you to leave.”

It took Flash one look at May’s dead serious expression to decide that he better go. On his way out however, Peter sneezed, and one of the bloody gauzes in his mouth fell out. Peter stared at it in horror.

“May…I- I threw up a bloody cloud! I’m gonna die! Somebody help! I’m gonna die!” Peter continued screaming, Flash continued laughing, and May ended up pushing him out of the room.

Later that evening, Tony Stark sat in his living room in the peace and quiet, trying to decide what color his new rug should be. Footsteps sounded down the hallway, and he groaned aloud. “I swear, if that isn’t Pepper bringing me coffee you will severely regret disturbing me!”

“Not Pepper, and I already regret this,” Happy said as he rounded the corner.

“Out. Go. Leave. Shoo.” Tony waved his had dismissively, refusing to even make eye contact with the intruder.

“It’s about the kid.”

Tony’s attention was peeked. “What about the kid?”

“This.” Happy turned the laptop he was carrying around, revealing a very delirious Peter happily sharing confidential Spider-man information with whoever was videoing.

“So what’s the problem? Just have the video taken down.” Tony shrugged nonchalantly, taking a sip of the alcohol on front of him.

“It’s number 4 trending on YouTube and already has over three hundred million views.”

Tony spit the drink back into the glass. “ _What?”_

Happy nodded, pointing to the numbers on the screen.

“Good grief, that kid needs a babysitter.” Tony squeezed the bridge of his nose, groaning. He glanced up at Happy. “Well, don’t just stand there! Get that kid a babysitter and have that video taken down!”

Happy burst into action.

“And bring me my coffee while you’re at it!”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So guys, what do you think? I'm still learning how to write these characters, but I think this is pretty good for a first try. Feel free to leave a comment and tell me what you think! 
> 
> Actually, I have a full on story to write leading from this one shot, but I don't know if I really want to work with it yet. So talk to me guys! What do you want?
> 
> Thanks for reading! Go ahead and hit that kudos button if you enjoyed!


	2. A Date With Karen

May Parker was completely at loss for what to do.  She had a rather large dilemma on her hands, and it was only getting bigger by the minute.  You see, she had sent in a resume to a company in Virginia, applying for a sixth month long position as a secretary. Money was currently tight, and the position paid rather well. Just that morning, she had received a call from her potential employer, asking for an interview.

She nearly agreed, but Peter had started spouting off a bunch of Spider-Man stuff and she had to end the call. She was supposed to call the man back within a few hours, but a thought had come to her in the mean time. While she might be able to pack up and head to Virginia, Peter couldn’t. He had school, friends, and now Spider-Man. (Goodness knows how much she disliked that last part.)

She most certainly was not about to leave the newly 16 year old alone for six months, Spiderman or not. For heaven’s sake, he was a sophomore in high school and didn’t even have a driver’s license yet. But somehow, she had to _pay_ for him to go to high school, and somehow, she had to _pay_ for a car for him to learn to drive, and somehow, she had to _pay_ for the insane amount of food he consumed in a day.

She glanced over her shoulder and the teen in the backseat of the car, fast asleep with a thin string of drool seeping from his numbed mouth. Too bad he couldn’t have been doing that while Flash was videoing. Mischievously, she snapped a picture with her phone while stopped at a red light. It would make perfect blackmail later. She smiled. Good grief, she loved him so much.

He was her life. Her purpose. The reason she crawled out of bed every morning to turn off his alarm clock and wake him up herself. The idea of not being there for him was completely foreign to her, and yet now…now she might just have to leave him. Not alone of course—maybe he could stay with the Leeds—but all the same, she wanted to _be there._

She pulled her car up alongside their apartment building and put it in park, removing the keys from the ignition. Stepping out of the vehicle and into the cold, she opened the back door, and did her best to rouse Peter enough to walk him up to their living space. She decided to let him sleep on the couch while she finished up her phone call.

He slept until 5:30 that evening, waking only once to sleepily use the bathroom and then fall into his bed for more rest. May was in the kitchen cooking dinner when he finally roused.

Very awake after having slept for an entire day, Peter decided (in his drugged up state) to take Karen on a patrolling date. He pulled on the Spider-Man suit, and opened the window.

“Hello Peter,” Karen greeted. “How are you this evening?”

“I am _amazing,”_ Peter responded sincerely, feeling more elated than ever before. “Sooo amazing.”

“That’s great,” Karen replied. “However, you do seem to be under the effects of Anesthesia. Perhaps you should stay home tonight.”

“That, Karen, is nonsense,” he told her as he climbed through the open window and sloppily jumped to the next building. “You and I are going on a date.”

“I’m not sure I understand.”

“A date, Karen. Don’t you know what a date is?”

“Would you like me to look it up?”

“No, I’ll just tell you.” Peter nonchalantly swung from building to building, not nearly as agile as usual. “A date is when two people who are in love go out and do things together.”

“Like that outing you wanted to go on with Liz?” Karen replied, her systems still not registering that Peter wanted to go on a date with _her_.

“Yeah, but I’m not going with Liz. Her dad’s a bad guy. I’m going with you.”

“You are taking me on a date?”

“Yes, I’ve been telling you that. I thought Mr. Stark made you a _smart_ AI.” Peter crawled across a window and waved at the people inside.

“I’m very flattered, Peter, but I am created to be your personal assistant. Are there any destinations you are headed for tonight?”

“Where do _you_ want to go?”

“The decision is up to you, Peter, but I would suggest going home. You’re reflexes and awareness are very inaccurate.”

“Who needs reflexes?” Peter blew her off, walking casually upside down on the underside of a bridge. “I’m Spider-Man.”

“You have an incoming call from May Parker.”

“Don’t you dare answer it; we’re on a date. Now, let’s go somewhere romantic. Like… like Paris!”

“Setting a course for Paris.” Karen began calculating the fastest route before stating: “Peter, unfortunately you do not currently have a means of traveling overseas. Shall I re-route to an alternative destination?”

“No. We’re going to Paris. I can swim—I’m Spider-Man!” Peter determinedly set out in the direction of the ocean, growing sleepier by the minute. He webbed his way from building to building, not even growing the slightest bit concerned as he began shooting the webs at the last possible second, until finally, he didn’t shoot it at all.

He began to free fall down between the two sky scrapers, grinning like a fool. “Isn’t this fun, Karen? We’re flying!”

“Peter, you need to shoot a web,” Karen warned. “You are plummeting toward the ground at a dangerous rate.”

“Not a chance!” He laughed, flipping over in mid air, his back to the ever present ground. “This is awesome!”

“Deploying emergency web,” Karen announced before shooting a web at the closest structure. The string hit the railing of a balcony and Peter jerked to a stop…swinging him straight into the closest wall, face first. His nose made a sickening crack.

“Karen!” Peter shouted after a stunned moment. “What was that for?”

“You were approaching the ground at a very dangerous speed without a plan of stopping yourself. Due to my safety protocol-”

“No! No safety protocol! That hurt, Karen! My arm and my nose…now I’m going to break up with you! Do you know what that means?”

“Would you like me to look it up?”

“No, Karen, I don’t want you to look it up! It means that I don’t love you anymore and we’re no longer on a date!”

Peter dangled by his arm angrily, and Karen, being only a very intelligent computer, was not sure how to process the situation. If Peter was angry at someone else, she was programmed to calm him down. If he was angry with himself, she was designed to offer support. But when he was angry with her? That was where her programming offered little help.

But Karen _was_ programmed to learn. She _was_ programmed to pick up human interactions and copy them, in order to communicate more efficiently. So Karen searched her databases for things she had learned, and finally settled on a statement often used in similar scenarios.

“I’m sorry, Peter.”

Peter was quiet for a moment more. “It’s okay, Karen. Can…can we go home now?”

“My sensors indicate that you have dislocated your shoulder and broken your nose. I would advise you to stay here while I activate a distress beacon.”

“Okay.”

“It would also be beneficial if you did not dangle by your injured arm. Perhaps you should switch hands.”

“I’m tired, Karen. You do it.” Peter scuffed the side of his foot against the cement wall.

Once again, Karen wasn’t entirely sure what to do. She couldn’t shoot the web for him unless he aimed first, so she searched her memory systems for a solution. She found a time when Peter had created a sort of hammock out of the webbing. As she composited that information with safety protocols and web combinations, Karen came up with a solution.

She shot a wide web between the two protruding balconies less than two feet below them, creating a spider web ledge. Using the web Peter hung by, she slowly extended it and lowered him down onto it, then detached the web. Karen was rather proud of her problem solving capabilities.

For the present, Peter wasn’t going to fall and kill himself, so Karen set to work sending out coordinates and distress calls to Tony Stark, just as she was programmed to do. Boy was it nice to do what she was programmed to do. Learning was hard work.

Tony, or rather Ironman, showed up within minutes and grabbed the foolhardy kid off his perch. After short visit to Stark Tower to get him a change of clothes and to have his shoulder reset, the two drove back to the apartment building in a Jaguar.

May was an emotional wreck by the time they returned, and when she saw the remnants of blood on Peter’s nose and his left arm in a sling, you can only guess how furious she was. She wordlessly put him to bed on the couch (where she could keep an eye on him) while Tony shopped around their kitchen for something half decent to eat. Seriously, was all this woman cooked some variation of Walnut-Date loaf?

“I want it gone.” May’s voice hissed into his thoughts. “That suit. I want it gone. I want the homemade one gone. I want Spider-Man gone.”

Tony turned to face her with a half nod. “Okay look, I know this whole incident isn’t exactly nice, but isn’t getting rid of Spider-Man a bit extreme?”

“No,” May replied coldly. “If Spider-Man is causing Peter— _my_ Peter—to get hurt, then it is not one bit extreme!”

“I’ll put him on probation,” Tony offered. “No Spider-Man for a month and then he gets it back with supervision…or something. I don’t do parenting.”

“I don’t think you get it,” May retorted, fuming with anger that this man thought he even had a say in what happened with Peter’s life. “It’s not safe for him to be out there! You told me that he wasn’t going to get hurt, that he wouldn’t end up in trouble! You promised me Peter would be safe!”

“He’s a superhero! It’s an occupational hazard!”

“Well, then no more superhero!” May folded her arms, glaring at him with hatred in her eyes. “Enough is enough. I’m not going to watch him get hurt. Even if it means that I give up every job offer I get, I refuse to let Peter be put in harm’s way.”

“Alright. No more superhero.”

May quirked an eyebrow, not believing he had given in.

“No more Spider-Man, no more suits. But that means no more protection on my part. Yeah, that’s right. When that idiotic kid makes another suit—because mark my words, he will—I am not going to be the one to go find him. There won’t be any safety systems, no tracking devices, no nothing. Is that what you want? For Peter to be all on his own?” Tony’s words had exactly the desired effect. May seemed to be reconsidering.

“Then what are you going to do about it?” She still glared at him, but now with slightly less of an intent to kill.

“I’m going to start by getting him a babysitter.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Well, it was pretty clear to me that everyone wanted this story to be continued, so here you go! Thanks for all the love on the last chapter! I don't think I've ever gotten so many views and kudos so quickly! I'm not entirely sure how much further I'll go with this story, but this may turn into a full on book. (What can I say, it's been fun to write!)
> 
> I had a boatload of fun writing from Karen's perspective! She's such an interesting character.
> 
> Yes, Peter just HAD to break his nose (looking at you, Tom Holland). 
> 
> Let me know what you thought of this next installment down in the comments! Thanks for reading!
> 
> ~Spinofflady


	3. The Coffee Shop Girl

Tony Stark sat in front of a muted TV staring blankly into space, swirling a glass of brandy. There were times that he hated the fact that there were other human beings in the universe, simply because that meant he had to acknowledge their existence.

He was currently feeling sorry for himself because he had told May that he would find Peter a babysitter while she was working in Virginia, and the task had proved to be harder than he expected. Firstly, because he was finding someone to watch a sixteen year old, and second, he had to find someone to watch _Spider-Man._

This person would have to undergo background checks, special training, and actually prove that they could keep Peter’s identity a secret.

Tony had made the mistake of explaining his problem to Pepper, who immediately made the suggestion of bringing Peter to stay with them.

“Pepper, he’s not a lost puppy!” Tony had retorted, “I’ve had to watch him for a few weeks in the past, and it’s a nightmare. Trouble just follows that kid around.”

Tony had to admit, out of anyone under the age of 18 that he would want running around, he would certainly prefer it be Peter, but that didn’t mean he was volunteering himself for a babysitting position. With a sigh, he chugged the last of his brandy and set the glass down.

His phone rang from beside him, and he glanced at the caller ID. _Unknown._ Usually, Tony would have ignored it, but for whatever reason—maybe it was the alcohol—he answered.

“Yeah,” he said into the speaker.

“Stark?”

Tony would have known that voice anywhere, and he immediately regretted picking up the phone. “Rogers.”

“Tony, hi. Listen, before you hang up, let me explain.”

“This aught ‘a be good.”

“I owe someone a favor, and I heard you were looking for a babysitter for the kid from Queens.”

“His name is Peter, and where’d you heard that?”

Steve sighed on the other end. “Long story short, Pepper told Natasha, Natasha told Clint, Clint told Sam, and Sam told me. But all that aside, I think I know someone.”

“I’m listening.”

* * *

Steve Rogers pulled of the main road (if you could call it a road) of the tiniest town he’d ever been in. He liked it so far, it had a very quaint feel—reminded him of what it was like growing up in Brooklyn. A town where everyone knew each other, where you could walk into the closest diner and order “the usual” and they’d actually know what you meant.

Speaking of diners, he could use some food about now. He’d been driving for hours, and the last thing he’s eaten was a cold burger from a rundown fast food place. He glanced around for food, but there seemed to be nothing around but a small coffee shop. Well, maybe they’d have some scones there or something.

He parked out front and walked through the door, a bell chiming as he did so. There were only a few other people in the shop, probably taking advantage of the free wifi that was advertised in the window. Couldn’t find much of that way out here.  He approached the counter and breathed a sigh of relief when he saw a platter of muffins.

A young woman stepped out from the back. Her dark blonde curls were piled on the top of her head, and her apron was smudged with something white. “Can I help you?” She asked politely, though not at all enthusiastically.

“Yeah, uh…I’ll take three muffins. And a hot chocolate.” He reached for his wallet as the door jingled, signaling the arrival of more customers.

“Hungry?” The girl asked, putting in the muffins into a brown paper bag.

“Starving,” Steve replied with a smile. “I’m not even sure those muffins will fill me up.”

She looked up at him for a moment. “You know we sell sandwiches, right?” She pointed to a refrigerator on the opposite wall.

“Oh. Well, then I’ll take two of those as well.”

The barista raised an eyebrow, more out of amusement than anything else, as she rang up his total. “That’s $27.13.”

“$27.13?” Steve asked in surprise, probably a bit too loud. He still hadn’t come to terms with modern prices. He passed over the money. “Gosh, how much are those muffins?”

“Four bucks each,” she replied casually. “ID please.”

Steve hesitated. “ID? This is a coffee shop. What do you need my ID for?”

She shrugged. “Some crime happened a few weeks ago. Cops want us to check IDs.”

Steve sighed, and showed her his wallet with his license in it.

She finished ringing him up, and then motioned for him to come closer. Confused, Steve leaned down over the counter.

“Okay, Steve Rogers,” she whispered, her don’t-care attitude disappearing. “I don’t know what your current status is, but I figured you may want to know that those two guys back there are clearly watching you.”

Steve started to turn, wanting to see the potential threat.

“Don’t look!” She hissed. “They’ll know your onto them…laugh.”

“What?”

“Laugh. They’ll think I’m flirting.”

Steve chuckled self-consciously, wondering how on earth anyone would think of it as flirtatious, but the girl was right, he shouldn’t look. “You got a back door?”

“Yeah, go sit down and eat. I’ll give you an excuse to use it.”

His heart pounding, Steve grabbed his food and sat down in a leather arm chair, doing his absolute best to appear casual. He didn’t think it was working very well—he could feel the eyes of the two men boring into him. It felt like hours, and the coffee shop girl just continued on as if nothing was happening.

But finally, she picked up a cardboard box, and began to fumble with it. It was clearly too heavy for her, and Steve took it as his chance to at least get one step closer to his escape. He stuffed the last bite of his five dollar sandwich into his mouth and jumped up to help.

“Let me get that for you,” he offered, taking the box from her, and discovering that it was completely empty. Yeah, this was definitely her cue. For a random girl in upstate New York, she was pretty good at this.

“Oh, thank you,” she smiled, looking up at him with endearingly blue eyes. “Would you stick it on the shelf back here for me? I’ll show you where it goes.” She casually led the way into the back, and once they had rounded a corner, her serious mode turned on again.

“If they really are following you, they probably have guys waiting for you to go get your car,” she said, glancing out the window. “We can take my car and get out of here without anyone knowing.”

“We?” Steve asked, setting the empty box down. “What do you mean ‘we?’ You aren’t coming with me.”

“You actually think I’d let you drive my car to some unknown destination?”

“I’ll just take my car then.”

“You and I both know it’s probably been rigged to blow up as soon as you turn the key. Those guys were in business suits. Nobody ever comes in here wearing a suit—I _know_ they’re up to something.”

“How do I know you aren’t up to something?” Steve asked with his eyes narrowed. Yeah, why did she want him to do exactly what she said?

Instead of answering, she grabbed a coffee pot off the shelve and pitched it at his head, narrowly missing.

“What the he-” Steve’s shock trailed off as she pushed past him and slamming a taser  into the necks of the two suited men, who had somehow managed to sneak up behind him.

Steve glanced from the two men, now unconscious on the floor, to the girl. “Who _are_ you?”

“The name’s Amanda Harding.”

“Okay, great, but where’d you learn that stuff?” Steve still couldn’t believe that some girl in a coffee shop had just potentially saved his life.

“I’m a S.H.I.E.L.D agent…well, I was, until you blew it up. So, thank you for that.”

Steve bit his lip. “Yeah, sorry about that…I didn’t have a choice.”

“No, seriously,” Amanda looked at him soberly. “I hated my job. Thank you.”

 A commotion sounded from the front of the shop, sounding suspiciously like reinforcements. “Introductions can happen on the way. Let’s get out of here.” Steve announced, immediately deciding that Amanda could be trusted.

The two jumped in her car, and she wasted no time in pulling out of the back parking lot. But the minute she hit the main road, she slowed down to the 35mph speed limit.

“What are you doing?” Steve exclaimed. “They’ll catch us!”

“Okay, Uncle Sam, time for a lesson in espionage. Say two cars are driving down a 35mph road. One is going the speed limit, the other is careening down the road at 75mph. Which one of those cars do you think is going to look slightly suspicious?”

“The one going 75.”

“Good,” Amanda remarked casually, glancing in her review mirror, as a black SUV sped past them. “Oh, look at that. The bad guys fell for it. Thought we were just a random car. Geez, Rogers, who taught you how to be inconspicuous?”

Embarrassed, Steve decided to go back to the introductions. Maybe small talk could make him look like less of an idiot than he currently was. “So, how long did you work for S.H.I.E.L.D?”

“Ten years.”

He stared at her in surprise. “Ten years? You don’t look older than twenty.”

“Cause I’m not. I’m nineteen. I was part of a special program S.H.I.E.L.D did to try and train less obvious spies—kids. The program totally failed, but I did get a job as an Intel agent.”

“So you’re like a spy prodigy kid?”

She smirked. “Yeah, you could call it that.”

Amanda pulled down a side street and up to a small apartment complex. She parked her car and climbed out of the driver’s seat, motioning for Steve to do the same. He followed her up a flight of stairs, and as they were about to enter one of the apartments, she paused.

“Stay here for a sec—I forgot about my dog.” She turned the key with a click, and ferocious barking exploded from behind the door. “Quiet, Vader! It’s me!” She squeezed through the door, immediately shutting it behind her. After a few moments she returned and fully opened the door.

“I put Vader in my bedroom, so now you don’t have to worry about getting eaten alive.”

Slightly numbed from the day’s events, Steve willing walked inside. The apartment was much nicer on the inside. Sleek modern furniture, a refurbished kitchen, everything was fancier than what he had just recently stayed in. S.H.I.E.L.D must have paid her a nice sum of money, because working at a coffee shop would never bring in enough for this.

“I gotta get back to work before Leanne gets mad at me,” Amanda announced as she grabbed a sweater out of the closet. “You can use the phone if you need a ride or something…call one of your guys…I don’t know. Make yourself at home. Oh, there’s an AK 47 under the bathroom sink if you need it.”

“Thanks,” Steve smiled awkwardly with his hands shoved into his pockets. What nineteen year old had an assault rifle under their sink? “I hope I don’t have to use it.”

She smiled back and turned to leave, only to turn around. “Oh, and if by some chance there does end up being a fight here, would you mind not fighting in that room?” She gestured to the door to her left. “There’s a lot of really valuable, expensive… irreplaceable family heirlooms in there, so I’d appreciate it if they didn’t end up broken.” She paused. “You know what, I’ll just close the door, and that can be your reminder to not fight in there, okay?”

Steve nodded silently as she shut the door.

“Alright, awesome. Bye.” She began her exit once again, but stopped halfway. “One more thing: if you value your life, do not, I repeat, _do not_ open the bedroom door. Vader is a trained attack dog and he has in the past actually ripped someone’s limbs off so…just don’t.”

“Got it. No dog.” Steve gave her a thumbs up, remembering the tiny dog who used to chase him down the street as his poor thirteen year old self tried to deliver newspapers.

Amanda headed for the door again, this time determined to actually leave.

“Hey, Amanda?”

She stopped and turned around, _again._

“Thanks,” Steve smiled genuinely. “I owe you one.”

“Actually you owe me two,” she quipped dryly. “One for now, and the other for making me lose my job.”

“Look, I really didn’t want to; I hated to see-”

Amanda gave a laugh. “I’m kidding. Seriously, I didn’t like working for them. But you do owe me for this one, so… If you know anyone who needs a babysitter or something, have them give me a call.”

“Will do.”

“Good luck, Uncle Sam.” Amanda nodded in his direction and she attempted to walk out for the fourth time.

“It’s uh, it’s Captain America,” Steve called after her.

“I know.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> You know, I don't think there's a single story out their that I haven't added original characters into. Speaking of which, thoughts on Amanda? Heads up, she'll be hanging around for a while, so you might as well just like her. (I mean you don't HAVE to, but the story will probably be more interesting if you do.)
> 
> Also, YAY I GOT TO WRITE STEVE ROGERS NOW I AM HAPPY!! (Captain America may or my not be like my all time favorite Avenger...) How did I do? These characters are hard to capture with only words...
> 
> Well, thanks for reading! I hope you are enjoying the story! Don't forget to leave Kudos and a comment! (I really appreciate them!)
> 
> ~Spinofflady


	4. 157 Emails

Thursday afternoon rolled around, and Peter finally started to act like himself again. May had informed him that he was grounded from all things Spider-Man related until further notice, and to be completely honest, Peter didn’t mind. He was living with a constant headache brought along with the broken nose, and with his left arm still healing, there wasn’t much he could do.

So after reading every book he owned twice, Peter had lapsed into a state of boredom. May was out shopping, and since his suit was taken away, he didn’t even have Karen to talk to. But between the soreness of his mouth and nose, he didn’t want to talk anyway. He finally opened up his laptop and began to check his email, even though he _never_ actually received any messages.

The page took a moment to load, but it finally popped up, revealing that he had 157 unread emails. 157? Where did all those emails come from? He opened the first one, from a kid at his school he barely knew. There was a YouTube video attached, along with the words _Dude, this is hysterical!_ Curious, Peter clicked on the link.

The title of the video caused his mouth to fall slack. _HILARIOUS WISDOM TEETH VIDEO: TEEN THINKS HE’S SPIDER-MAN!_

No. No, no, no, no, no! This couldn’t be what he thought it was. Please. No.

The video began playing, and Peter forced himself to watch as the camera panned around the room, revealing himself in the dentist chair.

Ned’s voice was the first sound. _“Hey, Peter. How’d it go?”_

Peter was surprised at how long it took his drugged up self to respond. _“Who’re…you? Oh…hiiiiii. Iss Ned. Guysss, iss Ned. He’s…he’s a nice guy. Don’ be scared o’ him. He’sss Ned.”_

Peter cringed as people giggled in the background, knowing that he was only getting started.

_“Hey! Don’ laugh at him. Ned’ssss a good guy. No laughing!”_

Well, at least he was defending Ned.

_“I mean it! No laughing…or I’ll web you up. Causssse I’m Spider-mannn.”_

And there it was.

His worst fear had been caught on camera and was now viewed over twenty million times.

He was _never_ going to live this down.

Peter sat through eleven minutes and fifty-two seconds of the most embarrassing, painful video content he’d ever laid eyes on. Karen…and Liz. There was no chance Liz hadn’t seen the video yet, and if she didn’t already think he was a creep, she certainly would now. Why, why, why had he said all this stuff?

After the video ended with him screaming about throwing up a bloody cloud (as if it wasn’t embarrassing enough all ready) Peter headed back his email. Every single email was someone from school saying something or other about the video.

Defeated, Peter leaned back heavily in his chair. This was it. He could never go back to school now. He was just going to have to disappear and never return. Maybe there was some remote island with no YouTube that he could escape to.

His phone buzzed in his pocket—a text from Ned. _Dude, turn the news on RIGHT NOW,_  it read. Curious, Peter ambled into the living room and hit the remote. He skipped through the channels and landed a news station.

“And now, we have a special report on the video that is blowing up the internet,” the female anchor announced. “Jason, have you seen this video yet?” She asked her co-host. “It is just too funny!”

“I certainly have, Carolyn,” replied the man with an overdose of hair gel. “And let me tell you, I could not stop laughing. Let’s take a quick peak.”

The YouTube video popped up on the screen, right at the part where he started blabbing about being Spider-Man and ended at not marrying Ned.

“Oh yeah, of course. You just had to show the clip, didn’t you?” Peter groaned and rubbed the side of his head.

The screen cut back to the chuckling anchors.

“It just never gets old,” Jason shook his head, not one little gelled hair moving out of place.

“That exactly what the internet seems to think,” Carolyn commentated. “The video has been viewed 23 million times on YouTube alone. The teen in the video has been identified as Peter Parker from Queens, New York.”

“Are you serious?” Peter moaned. By name. They had pointed him out _by name._

“The video was taken by a fellow classmate and posted to YouTube where it proceeded to go viral within 12 hours, trending number 3.”

“You know what makes this so funny,” Jason jumped in, “is that this kid really seems to believe he’s actually Spider-Man. He’s even come up with how he supposedly became the hero.”

“I’ll give him points for creativity,” Carolyn agreed. “But that does bring up a point. Where did Spider-Man come from?”

Peter hit the power button before Hair-gel guy had a chance to say anything else. May was going to kill him. Mr. Stark was going to kill him. He would probably kill himself.  He could just imagine walking down the hallway at school and being teased relentlessly.

Sudden banging on the door caught his attention, and he stood up to answer it. He opened the door finding a group of three girl’s he had never seen in his life. “Um, hi?” He started awkwardly, trying and failing to recognize them.

“Hi,” the tallest girl said. “We have a YouTube channel, and we wanted to see if we could interview you. About the Spider-Man video.”

Peter stared at her dumbly. “Uh…okay?”

“Awesome!” the tall one exclaimed as one of the other girls whipped out a camera. “So, why do you think you were convinced you were Spider-Man?”

“Well, I…I guess it was-”

“Peter!”

Peter glanced up to see the one and only genius-billionaire-playboy-philanthropist Tony Stark striding toward him with a scowl. The three girls stood open mouthed, turning the camera on him.

“Okay, interview’s over. Goodbye ladies. Get lost.” Tony shooed them out of the way as he walked into the Parker apartment.

Squeals of “Tony Stark is in our video!” could be heard as Peter shut the door, dreading the lecture that lay ahead.

“Mr. Stark, I am so so so sorry!” Peter began immediately. “I didn’t mean to say any of it. I promise! I don’t know why I did that!”

“What I’d like to know,” Tony jumped it, leaning back on the couch to make himself comfortable. “Is why you had a bunch of friends there to witness it.”

Peter was silent, mostly because he didn’t actually know.

“What was the matter with you?! Inviting a bunch of people to be your audience as you told them everything you know better than to share!”

“I didn’t invite them, Mr. Stark! They just came!”

“Well, isn’t that a pity? Now you’re all over national TV, and you have fangirls trying to interview you. What did you plan on telling them, huh? That you are actually Spider-Man? At this point you might as well.”

Peter hung his head, trying to dig a hole through the carpet with his toe. “I’m really sorry, Mr. Stark.”

“Sorry doesn’t cut it, kid. You made a mess, and I don’t think there’s a way to clean it up.”

Peter sometimes wondered if one of Tony Stark’s super powers was making people feel guilty, because at the present, it was working pretty well. There was nothing more guilting than having Ironman stare at him with disappointment and annoyance.

“Where’s your suit?” Tony asked with a quick glance around the room.

Peter looked up in confusion. “You have it.”

“No, the onesie. Where is it?”

“It’s in my…” Peter suddenly realized where Tony was going with the conversation. “No, please Mr. Stark! Please don’t take that suit! It’s important to me!”

“Sorry kid,” Tony shook his head. “Your aunt’s orders. I just happen to agree with her. If you can’t keep yourself out of trouble, then someone else is going to have too.”

“But this wasn’t my fault!” Peter pleaded desperately. “I didn’t know they were going to come!”

“The video is not what I’m talking about,” Tony gestured to the sling. “That is.”

Peter opened his mouth to retort.

“Don’t try it, Pete, okay? This is where you shut up, because apparently you have issues with keeping your mouth closed. You are going to go get me that suit, web-shooters included.” Tony halted before adding. “It’s for your own good.”

“Sure it is,” Peter grumbled as he walked to his room. He grabbed the homemade suit from under his dresser, not even bothering to try and keep any of the cartridges of web fluid. Tony would know. Peter walked back out to the living room, where Mr. Stark was now standing impatiently. Peter handed the wadded fabric in his direction.

“I don’t like to be handed things,” Tony shoved his hands into his pockets. “Come on.”

“What? Where?” Peter stuffed his feet into the closest pair of shoes and followed Tony out the door.

“To negotiate.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay, I know some of you are DESPERATELY waiting to see Peter go back to school and get relentlessly teased. Don't worry. It's coming. But I do have to set up the story before I really have fun with it. ;)
> 
> Also, if you guys have any suggestions, PLEASE MAKE THEM! They are super helpful right now as I have limited experience in this fandom. (So far it seems like everyone enjoys watching Peter and his exceptionally bad luck.)
> 
> As always, thanks for reading! Oh, and if you want to make my day: go ahead and leave a comment!
> 
> ~Spinofflady


	5. The "Good Kid" Speech

Amanda Harding felt awkward parking her 2004 Honda Accord in the parking lot full of Ferraris and Lamborghinis as pulled up to the restaurant she was supposed to meet one May Parker at. Of course, Tony Stark had to pick the most expensive and prestigious place to eat in Queens. At least he was paying for her food.

It was 10:30 at night when her phone rang, and when the caller ID read “Anthony Stark,” she had thought it was some kind of prank call. But lo and behold, when she answered the phone, it was really truly Tony Stark on the phone. After a four-and-a-half-hour phone call and a meeting the next day, Tony was ready to give her a job.

Though Tony hadn’t mentioned him, Amanda knew that Steve Rogers had something to do with him contacting her, especially when Tony called it a “babysitting gig.” Initially, Amanda had been reluctant to even negotiate the offer. She’d officially had it with S.H.I.E.L.D and the Avengers, but when Tony showed her a check made out for $350,000, she immediately put any hard feeling behind her and gladly agreed to meet with May.

To be honest, Amanda was slightly intimidated. If May decided to hire her, she would officially be Spider-Man’s babysitter. What did that even mean? She knew she was supposed to keep him out of trouble, but seriously, if _Spider-Man_ wanted to do something, how was she supposed to stop him? She’d been trained in restraining people, but not superheroes.

Pushing the thoughts aside, she straightened her dress and climbed out of the car, striding up to the entrance of the restaurant. She told the waiter at the front who she was meeting, and he immediately escorted her to a private booth at the back. A fairly young woman was already there, reading a magazine. As Amanda approached, the woman stuffed it into her purse and looked up with a smile.

“Are you Amanda?” She asked pleasantly.

“Yeah, and you’re May, I take it?” Amanda stretched out her hand in greeting and shook May’s hand before sitting down. “Nice to meet you.”

Each woman grabbed a menu that had been placed at the end of the table. “Between you and me,” May began, looking over the top of the leather back menu, “I would never eat at this place. It’s just too expensive!”

“I’m so glad we’re on the same page,” Amanda signed, shocked by the prices on the Entrées alone. “Who in their right mind pays $50 for garlic bread?”

“I don’t know,” May chuckled, setting her menu aside. “So, tell me about yourself, Amanda.”

Amanda did the same with her menu, buying herself time as she tried to decide where she should begin. She should probably leave out the part about blowing up a library, or forging a document to get into the White House on that mission two years ago, or having to kill the double agent who took her on a date...

“Well, I’m currently a college student,” Amanda finally decided that was a decent enough answer. “I’m majoring in psychology, and I hope to end up doing some kind of counseling work in the future. I’m from a teeny tiny little town upstate called Port Leyden—you’ve probably never heard of it.”

May shook her head. “Tony said you had a background with S.H.I.E.L.D?”

Oh boy. Talking about S.H.I.E.L.D was like walking through a landmine, problems waiting to explode at every step. “Um, yeah, I do. I was part of a child program they did to help train Agents at an earlier age. It didn’t work very well. Most of the kids quit. I wish I had, but I hung around for another ten years until Captain America shut everything down.”

“Do you have family nearby?”

“No, but to be honest with you, I don’t mind having a bit of distance between me and my four younger brothers!”

Both laughed heartily.

“Well, if you’ve put up with four brothers your whole life, I think that makes you more qualified for this job than I would be,” May said finally. “Sometimes I don’t know what to do with Peter.”

“Speaking of Peter, tell me a bit about him,” Amanda immediately pounced on the opportunity to learn more about her potential job. “I have to know whether I’m sane to take this job, you know.”

May chuckled again. “Peter…he’s a good kid. Better than I ever was.”

Amanda fought the urge to grin. It was the same speech every time. The “my-kid’s-a-good-kid-and-I’m-so-proud” one. Every parent she’d ever babysat for had used it, changed up a bit here and there.

“When I was his age, I was out hanging with my friends, and he’s saving people from getting mugged on a daily basis.”

Amanda guessed the speech would have to be really embellished, since this was Spider-Man they were talking about.

“And I know it sound horrible of me, but sometimes I wish he wasn’t such a good kid.”

That was new. She’d never heard that line used before.

“I kind of wish he was busy getting in trouble at school rather than fighting crime. I wish I could sit up late at night waiting for him to get home from a party rather than to see if he made it through another night of patrolling safely.”

This was _very_ new, and now Amanda was genuinely interested.

“And after all the crap he’s gone through, nobody would blame him if he was a bad kid. His parents were killed in an aviation accident when he was six, and then last year his uncle…my husband… was killed in a carjacking…but he still loves everybody. I don’t know how he’s as happy as he is. All I can say is I don’t deserve him.”

Amanda had never heard a good kid speech quite like this one. For one thing, this was the first time she actually believed that the good kid was really a good kid, but she actually had an empathy for him. But she should definitely say something before it got awkward.

“I’m so sorry for your loss,” she said at last. “I can’t imagine how hard it was.” Actually, she could, but that wasn’t important right now.

“It was a big change for both of us,” May went on, “We had to move, and Peter was starting high school. I was so worried he’d be all on his own, but after the first day he came home and told me he’d made a friend. Oh, just a heads up, you’ll probably be looking after Ned most of the time too. We’re basically his second family.”

Amanda nodded with a smile. As long as this Ned guy wasn’t a superhero too, she could handle him.

May shook her head briefly, before looking up with a smile. “Well, Peter will love having someone else besides me around. I think you’ll be a good fit.”

 _For $350,000, I can fit anywhere,_ Amanda smiled to herself. “I think you’re right.”

* * *

Peter was thrilled to see a Rolls Royce sitting outside his apartment building, and was even more thrilled when Tony motioned for him to get it. Loosing his suit or not, getting to ride in such a fancy car would always make things better.

Happy was sitting in the front seat, frowning.

“Hi, Happy!” Peter greeted eagerly. “Haven’t seen you in a while.”

Happy grunted in response.

Tony slid into the back seat, instructing Happy to head for Stark Tower. “So, you know your Aunt’s going out of town, right?” Tony asked in Peter’s general direction.

“Yeah, of course,” Peter replied, wondering what that had to do with Mr. Stark. Unless…

“Since you can’t keep yourself out of trouble, somebody has to watch you. You’re Aunt asked me to-”

Peter’s face light up with a smile. “Mr. Stark, I would love to stay with you! Thank you!”

Tony stared at him. “Did I say you could stay with me?”

“Well, you said…” Peter trailed off, wondering if Tony was just messing with him.

“I didn’t say anything before someone interrupted, but had I finished, I would have said that your Aunt asked me to find you a babysitter.”

Peter’s mouth fell slack. “A…babysitter?”

“Yeah, and we’re about to go meet her.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Does anyone else have trouble writing Tony Stark? I sure do. I don't even know why...
> 
> I hope everyone is getting to know Amanda a little better; things are about to get crazy! (Teenager+technically not a teenager=craziness) Also, be on the look out for more Ned!
> 
> I know this chapter was on the short side...I make up for it, promise! Thanks for reading, and make sure to leave a comment and kudos!
> 
> ~Spinofflady


	6. The Babysitter

Peter had been to Stark Tower several times, and every single one of those times he had discovered some knew architectural wonder. Today, it was noticing that the elevator buttons were shaped like miniature arc-reactors. Peter watched as the numbers above the door counted up to 27, and a ding sounded.

The silvery doors slid open, revealing a mostly empty room, with only a table, three chairs, and rug, along with some cardboard boxes in the corner. There was a girl seated at the table, who looked up from her phone when Peter, Tony, and Happy stepped in. She smiled courtly in their direction as she stood.

She walked over to them, with such a confident stride it was almost intimidating. Okay, it was _very_ intimidating. She was tall, several inches taller that Peter—not like that was anything out of the ordinary. Her shoulders were surprisingly broad and square, without a single hint of a slouch. It made Peter stand up a little straighter.

“Tony,” she greeting. “It’s nice to see you again. And you must be Peter.” She stretched out a hand in greeting and looked at him intensely. Peter shook her hand politely, never taking his eyes of her face. Her eyes were deep, and the look on her face almost seemed to say “ _If I wanted to, I could squash you right now.”_ Okay, maybe not those words exactly, but she was definitely sizing him up.

She turned back to Mr. Stark. “You know, when you said he was sixteen, I honestly thought you were kidding, and now I know you were. There’s no way on earth he’s that old.”

“I just turned sixteen,” Peter jumped in, desperately wanting to make sure Tony didn’t embarrass him by agreeing with her.

She nodded with an amused expression. “I’m sure.”

Tony finally spoke up. “Okay, well, Peter meet Amanda, Amanda meet Peter. Alright, let’s talk.”

So that was her name. Not what Peter had expected it to be, but it suited her.

Tony led the way to the table and sat down in one of the chairs surrounding it. There were only three chairs left in the room, so Peter ended up sitting on an empty cardboard box.

“Okay, Pete, here’s the deal,” Mr. Stark began, his intonation making it very obvious to Peter that it was the only deal there would be. “You’re Aunt’s going out of town, Amanda’s going to stay with you, and you are on Spider-boy probation.”

“Spider-Man,” Peter corrected softly.

“Yeah, whatever. Since I’m a nice guy, I pulled some strings, mainly the ones in your aunt’s heart, and I got you back your spider-rights.”

“Really?!” Peter voice betrayed him by cracking like a twelve year olds, earning a snort from Happy and the hint of a chuckle from Amanda.

“On one condition.” Tony drew in a breath and pulled of his shades to fiddle with them. “Amanda goes with you.”

Peter stared at Tony in shock. “What?”

“If you want to get your suit back and be allowed to go patrolling, you bring a sidekick.”

“But I don’t need-” _or want_ “-a sidekick!”

“Trust me,” Amanda broke in, “I don’t want to _be_ your sidekick. It sounds like way to much work.”

“See? She doesn’t want to be my sidekick!” Peter gazed at Tony pleadingly. He couldn’t have a sidekick. Only lame superheroes had sidekicks. He was supposed to be the friendly, neighborhood, _lone_ , Spider-Man. What would everyone think? That Spider-Man couldn’t stand his own anymore?

“Alright, she’s not actually your sidekick,” Tony shook his head. “She just be standing by in case you need one.”

“Oh yeah, even better,” Peter quipped sarcastically, “I’ll have a babysitter while I’m patrolling. That will look great.”

“Babysitter, sidekick, temporary legal guardian, call it what you want,” Amanda shrugged. “I’m getting paid to do the same thing—keep you out of trouble.”

Hearing Amanda say the words was all but infuriating. He didn’t need to be kept out of trouble. He was supposed to be keeping other people out of trouble!

“Right now Peter Parker’s got the press hot on his tail,” Tony went on. “It’s not going to take them long to figure out who’s under the Spider-Man mask. The point of a sidekick is to give them something else to report on until we fix this whole wisdom teeth video mess.”

Peter’s shoulders sagged. At least it wasn’t a permanent situation. “Fine.”

“Okay, well, since that’s been sorted out, Happy: take the kid home. Amanda and I have money to talk.”

And with that, the conversation was over.

* * *

As soon as he got home, Peter blew past his aunt in the kitchen wordlessly, and shut the door to his room with a slam. A babysitter was insulting enough, but a sidekick? Even worse. Peter Parker was used to being under estimated and babied, but to give Spider-Man a sidekick was a really low blow.

Needing to rant, Peter picked up his phone and called Ned. Ned would listen. He was the best listener Peter knew. It took two rings for Ned to pick up.

“Hey, dude,” Ned said over the phone. “What’s up?”

And Peter told him exactly what was up. He told Ned about Mr. Stark taking his suit and Aunt May banning him from Spider-Man, and he told Ned about Amanda and how she had to be his babysitter/sidekick/temporary legal guardian, and he told Ned how it was completely insulting to have some girl he didn’t know be in charge of him for a whole six months, and that as soon as he was given the change Peter was going to web Amanda to the ceiling and not let her down for the rest of her life.

And after all Peter’s ranting, Ned simply asked, “Is she hot?”

 “What?” Peter responded, surprised that that was all Ned could manage to say.

“Amanda,” Ned clarified, “Is she hot?”

Peter leaned back on a pile of pillows. “I don’t know…she’s not ugly or anything.”

“So is she average, or slightly above, or…come on Peter.”

“Why do you care?” Peter asked, not really interested in talking about how hot Amanda was.

“Dude, do you have any idea how many of the guys in our class would love to have a pretty girl following them around?”

“All of them?”

“Exactly. Use this to your advantage, man.”

“Amanda wasn’t exactly a supermodel, though.” To be honest, other than how intimidating making eye contact with her was, Peter could hardly remember a thing about Amanda’s physical appearance.

“Okay,” Ned said, “I guess you could just web her to the ceiling.”

“Yeah, but now that I think about it, I’m not sure that’s legal.”

“Peter, I can 99% guarantee that there is no law prohibiting you from sticking someone to the ceiling with spider webs. I mean, Spider-Man does it all the time, right?”

Peter had to admit, he did web people to the ceiling on a regular basis, and so far he’d never been the one the cops were chasing.

“So…when does ‘she-who-must-not-be-named’ come to stay?”

Peter laughed. “Sunday night. Right after my Aunt leaves for Virginia.”

“You know, you could just come to my place for the day.”

“I couldn’t spend the night…”

“So? Just hang out over here. At least that’s a few less hours you have to spend with you know who.”

Peter smiled. He couldn’t ask for a better friend than Ned. “Thanks, Ned. I think I will.”

May called Peter from the kitchen, and the two friend said good-bye. Peter hauled himself off his bed, which with his arm in an immobilizing sling was a bit of a struggle.

With a yawn, he padded into the kitchen. May was waving a towel in front of the smoke alarm.

“I burned dinner,” she told him sheepishly. “Go pick out a movie. I’m ordering pizza.”

She didn’t have to tell him twice.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ned and Peter: name a more iconic duo...I'll wait. These two are a blast to write! Expect more of them in the future. This chapter was still a little longer than the last one, but I usually try for 2000 words. Oh well. 
> 
> Since most of this story is being created on the spot, feel free to leave suggestions! I may just use them...
> 
> You know the drill from here: leave a comment and kudos!
> 
> ~Spinofflady


	7. A Depressing Hallmark Situation

 “Peter, have you seen my glasses?” May called from the other room, her voice tight and strained.

“On the bathroom sink,” Peter called back, focused heavily on the circuit board he was delicately picking apart.

“Where? I don’t see them!”

Peter sighed and stood up. May would never find them unless she was wearing her contacts, and ever since she’d gotten one stuck her eye, she refused to put them in. He headed for the one bathroom in their apartment, knowing she was blind as a bat without her glasses.

“They’re right here,” he said, picking them up of the countertop and passing them to her.

She squinted as she grabbed them. “Oh. Thanks.” She glanced at her watch. “My ride is here in five minutes,” she murmured rushing out of the bathroom to grab a few last minutes items.

“There’s a stack of papers on the counter with everything Amanda needs to know in case she lost the two copies I gave her,” May yelled to Peter as she bustled around the living room, apparently searching for her other shoe.

“May, I’m not four. I can tell her-”

“I know you, Peter. You wouldn’t tell her a thing.”

May was right. Peter planned on spending as little time around Amanda as possible, which is why he was headed for Ned’s house as soon as his Aunt left. The last thing he wanted to do was help “she-who-must-not-be-named” move into his home.

“Now I know that you don’t like the whole babysitter situation,” May continued as she finally dug her boot out from under the couch, “but please, for my sake, don’t give her any trouble. If all goes well I’ll be back for thanksgiving and Christmas, and maybe by then we can arrange for you to come with me.”

Peter nodded, looking at the floor.

“Please be careful, Peter.” She straightened and walked over to him. “I know I can’t keep you from Spider-Man, but I want to be able to come home to my Peter at the end of this, deal?”

“Deal.” Peter smiled and leaned forward to hug his aunt. He nestled his head into her shoulder, his injured arm tucked safely between them. May’s hugs made him feel like a little kid again, but in the best way. Her hugs were the most comforting, wonderful thing on the planet. No matter what happened, May could give him a hug and suddenly things would be okay.

“I’m gonna miss you so much,” she whispered as she stroked his hair. It sounded like she might be crying.

“I’m gonna miss you more,” he whispered back, wishing he could do something to keep her from being sad. If there was one thing he hated more than the idea of having a babysitter, it was the idea May crying over him.

They stayed there—neither one could say how long—but they didn’t want to let go. May because she knew that every hug she gave her vigilante nephew could be the last, and Peter…stayed simply because he loved his aunt and didn’t want her to leave.

But a car horn from below them signaled the end of the precious moment, and each on reluctantly released the other. May grabbed her bags, and Peter gathered up the other suitcase, and the two silently rode the elevator down to the ground level. They finally loaded her bags into the Uber, and paused. May wrapped her arms around him again.

“Love you, baby,” she murmured as she gave him a peck on the cheek.

“Love you too, May.”

She pulled away sorrowfully. “Be good.” It was clear that she was forcing herself to get into the car end the conversation, brushing a few tears out of her eyes. The car started to pull away, and May rolled the window down just in time to shout: “I’ll call you tonight!”

Peter waved after the car until it disappeared from view. He sort of felt like standing out on the side walk for another ten or fifteen minutes, just because it seemed like the appropriate action for a depressing scenario. Like in all those Hallmark movies were one person gets in the car and drives away while the other person stands for hours in the rain dejectedly.

But it was _way_ too cold to impersonate depressing Hallmark movie scenes, so Peter ran back into the apartment complex.

One in his apartment, he glanced at the clock. Two hours until Amanda showed up, so he had some time to enjoy freedom for a while longer. The first thing he did was throw the stack of papers in the trash, and the second was to grab a packet of instant hot chocolate and heat it up for himself.

He sat in front of the TV sipping hot coco and watching Disney channel, because there was nothing else to watch. It eventually dawned on him the show was geared for someone far younger than himself—someone who actually needed a babysitter.

Suddenly self conscious (despite being alone), Peter hit the power button on the remote.  He put his mug in the sink, pulled on his boots as well as a heavy winter coat, and headed for Ned’s house.

The two spent the next few hours playing video games until their eyes watered, building legos until they used up all the bricks, and talking until they both ran out of words. Six o’clock rolled around, and Peter finally decided he couldn’t stay any longer. He certainly didn’t want to go home, but he didn’t want Amanda to be ticked at him on the _first_ _day_ either. Bidding Ned goodbye, he made his way home.

He paused at the door to his apartment, desperately wishing he didn’t have to enter. He wished he could rewind everything back to before Fall Break, when everything was normal, but he couldn’t, so he opened the door and stepped into the next six months of his life.

A humongous black dog with pointy ears and even pointier teeth charged at him with a snarl, and Peter leapt onto the ceiling, clinging to it at the dog jumped up to try and tear him to shreds.

“Vader, leave him alone!” came Amanda’s voice from the living room. “Come!”

The dog stopped jumping, and viciously slinked back into his master. So far, the next six months weren’t looking very good.

 He cautiously hung his coat up in the closet, never taking his eyes off the dog and vise versa.

“Tony left you some Thai in the fridge,” Amanda said without looking at either Peter or the dog as she flipped through the channels. “Oh, and was Disney channel on for a reason?”

Peter mentally kicked himself as he pulled out the food. “No…I guess May left it there.”

Amanda clearly didn’t  buy it, because she actually looked at him with a “seriously?” expression.

Yeah, it was going to be a _long_ six months.

* * *

A line of prisoners in orange suits slowly filed down the hall in into the tiny recreation room. There wasn’t much in there, just a Foosball table, some books and old TV that only played the news, but it was most certainly better than a cell. There were criminals of every form: thieves, murderers, swindlers, and a whole lot of drug dealers. 

Mac Gargan had been all of them once or twice, but mostly recently, he was convicted of buying illegal weapons from that old guy in the busted arm chair—Adrian Toomes. And it was all that Spider-kid’s fault.

He had a team that he managed to keep in contact with, and they were waiting to break him out to go exact some revenge. Even if Mac had to come back to prison, he’d be fine with it so long as it was on account of killing whoever was under that ridiculous mask.

Toomes knew who he was; Mac was sure of it. It was just a matter of time before the truth came spilling out. Scowling, Mac plopped down in a chair, staring at the barely working TV screen.

“And now, we have a special report on the video that is blowing up the internet,” a female anchor announced. “Jason, have you seen this video yet?” She asked her co-host. “It is just too funny!”

This wasn’t even news. Mac rolled his eyes and leaned back in his chair.

“I certainly have, Carolyn,” Jason replied. “And let me tell you, I could not stop laughing. Let’s take a quick peak.”

A video popped up of a kid, with his wisdom teeth clearly just taken out, blabbing about how he was Spider-Man. It was almost, _almost,_ somewhat funny. The screen cut back to the chuckling anchors before Mac decided it was funny enough to laugh.

“It just never gets old,” Jason shook his head.

“That exactly what the internet seems to think,” Carolyn commentated. “The video has been viewed 23 million times on YouTube alone. The teen in the video has been identified as Peter Parker from Queens, New York.”

“Hey, that kid took my daughter to Homecoming,” Toomes said, glancing up from his book.

Mac stared at him while the other guys laughed and asked what possessed him to let such a midget date his daughter. _Any chance that’s the same kid who dumped your daughter at homecoming and ran out for no reason?_ Mac wondered, pieces slowly staring to fit together.

Maybe it was time to give his boys a call.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> PLOT PLOT PLOT! Introducing the bad guy: Mac Gargan! (For anyone who doesn't already know, his the guy Vulture is talking to in the post credits scene in HC.) 
> 
> ALSO: School starts back up in the next chapter, so be prepared for some relentless teasing! (I know some of you have been waiting for this!)
> 
> Thanks for reading! Make sure to tell me your thoughts in the comments!
> 
> ~Spinofflady


	8. Your Friendly Neighborhood Loser-Man

The hideous monster chased him down the dark hallway toward the blinding light at the other end. Peter didn’t know where it lead, but he couldn’t stop running, couldn’t make himself turn and fight no matter how hard he tried. The massive beast opened its saliva-dripping mouth, and roared an ear piercing, monotonous: _Beep! Beep! Beep! Beep! Beep!_

Peter shifted in bed, slowly prying his eyes open, and squinting to adjust to the morning light. His alarm clock was screaming the time with obnoxious beeps. Why hadn’t May come in to turn it off yet? He covered his ears with his pillow, attempting to drown out the deafening noise. May never took this long to come in…she hated his alarm.

Maybe he would just snooze it. It was getting seriously annoying. Rolling over, he reached over to hit the snooze button, glancing at the time.

He nearly screamed.

 _7:29?!_ Class started in 16 minutes! And it took him 45 minutes to get there!

Now _wide_ awake, Peter frantically pulled on some clothes, strapped his arm into his sling, and began cramming his homework into his backpack. He knocked a bunch of books off his shelf in the process.

Scrambling into the kitchen, he grabbed a banana out of the bowl on the counter, his backpack swinging around and sending a pot clattering to the ground.

Vader came barreling around the corner, barking and snarling, Peter lept onto the top of the cabinets just as Amanda ran around the corner, still in fleece pajama’s and her hair in a sloppy bun.

“What in the world is going on out here?!” She shouted, grabbing the dog’s collar and pulling him back. “Are you trying to wake up the entire building?”

“My class start in like, _ten_ minutes!” Peter shouted back as he jumped down from the cabinets. “I’m gonna be late! Why didn’t you wake me up?!”

“Because you had an _alarm_ set, and people who set alarms generally get up to them!”

“I never get up to an alarm! May shuts it off!”

“Well, I’m not May!”

  Peter stood for a moment. As much as he wanted to tell Amanda to just get out of his house, he really did have to get to class before he ended up with detention. “I’m going to school,” he replied, heading for the door.

“Wait.” Amanda halted him reluctantly. “I’ll drive you.”

Peter turned. “Really?” That would solve his problem almost entirely. Instead of being thirty minutes late, he’d only be closer to five.

“Yeah.” Amanda shoved he feet into a pair of his snow boots and grabbed her keys from the countertop. “Come on.” She was obviously still half asleep as she made her way down to the car, Peter in tow.

It was beginning to dawn on him that he had slept through _an hour and a half_ of his alarm. How was that even possible?

“Where’s your school again?” Amanda asked him as she pulled out of the parallel parking space. Peter rattled of the address without thinking. “No…like, how do I get there? I’m terrible at directions.”

“Oh, uh…turn right at that traffic light up there.” Peter pointed to the traffic light ahead. Terrible at directions? How was she from New York? One didn’t get to live in New York—or Queens at least—without being decent with directions. You just couldn’t live if you couldn’t find your way around. Where was she from, anyway? Kinda sounded like she might have lived in upstate for awhile. But no, he refused to ask. He didn’t care about Amanda, he didn’t want to know anything about her, he didn’t _like_ her.

It took less than 2.6 seconds for his firm resolve to go straight down the drain.

“Hey, where are you from?” He asked excitedly.

“Port Leyden.” Her tired voice had no inflection whatsoever.

“Where’s that?”

“Middle of nowhere.”

“Why’d you live there?”

“Cause I could.”

“Were you a spy? In Port Leyden, I mean.”

“Nope.”

“Then what’d you do?”

“I worked in a coffee shop.”

“Did you know Tony Stark before now?”

“Nope.”

“Then how’d you get this job?”

“Steve.”

“You know Steve Rogers?”

“Nope.”

“Then how’d he get you the job?”

“He owed me.”

“For what? Turn left over there.”

“Saving his butt.”

“Whoa! You saved Captain America? That’s awesome!” Amanda didn’t reply, so Peter went on. “Amanda…”

“Mm?”

“Oh, it  wasn’t a question. But I do have a question now.”

“Okay.”

“Can I call you Mandy for short?”

“I don’t care.”

“Do you have another nickname?”

“Nope.”

“You say ‘nope’ a lot.”

“Yep.”

“How come?”

Amanda sighed heavily. “Because a certain someone opened the floodgates of his mouth, and now I have to answer to questions to which the reply is a negative. Where do I turn?”

“Make a right up there. That’s my school.” Peter finally managed to keep his curiosity in check and stopped asking questions, despite the fact that he had a million more to ask. Like where she got that totally tech-y bracelet she was wearing, for starters.

Amanda pulled into the parking lot and up next to the from steps. “Get out,” she told him flatly, passing him his backpack from the backseat. “I’m picking you up. _Be here,_ or I call Tony.”

Peter nodded and ran up to the main entrance. He ran in the door, finding the hallway to be still quite full. Maybe he wasn’t so late after all.

“Hey, everyone, look!” Came a loud voice from down the hall. “Spider-Man’s here!”

Peter froze. Everyone was staring at him. Had they figured it out? Or was this about the video? He dearly hoped it had to do with the latter, even though the teasing didn’t seem very inviting either.  

“Parker!” Flash walked up and haughtily clapped a hand on Peter’s shoulder. “How’s the internet star?”

“Um…fine?” Peter stared at Flash, trying to register what just happened. Flash was talking to him, and it wasn’t an insult? Was this some kind of alternate universe?

“Really? Cause that sling looks pretty un-fine to me.” Flash gave mocking laugh. “What’d you do, Spider-Man? Crash into a wall?”

That was exactly what happened, but of course, Peter couldn’t say that. “I…uh…fell. Off my bed.”

Flash and his group of friends stared at him for a long moment, then burst out laughing. “That’s the lamest thing I’ve ever heard,” Flash bellowed, struggling to stand upright with laughter. “Peace out, Loser-Man!” The group of guys walked away, still laughing.

Peter let out a sigh, and walked straight to class before the lecture was over. First up was Chemistry, and while Peter normally would have spent it creating web fluid, he decided against it for today. Even though it would have been incredibly suspicious if he were caught, he didn’t actually have and shooters to put the fluid in yet, so there was no point in making any.

The class was boring. Peter had already done the book work for the class three weeks in advance because he’d had nothing to do, and so none of the information was new. Chemistry finally ended, and Peter went to put his backpack in his locker.

He groaned when he saw his locker door. Someone had drawn (in silver metallic Sharpie) a picture of Spider-Man…with a giant “L” on his forehead and captioned it “Loser-Man’s Locker.” Peter wondered how much Flash had paid one of the art students to do it.

He opened his locker, only to find that it had been stuffed full of shredded toilet paper.

“Is that where you store all your webbing, Loser-Man?” Flash was suddenly behind him, talking loud enough for the entire school to hear him. The students in the hallway turned and began to giggle.

Peter ignored them, pulling all the toilet paper out of his locker and walking it over to the trash can. Today was going to be seriously rotten.

And seriously rotten it was.

During math, everyone unanimously decided that Loser-Man should be the heroic person who got to write every single formula they’d learned that year on the board. For Social Studies, Peter got paired with Michelle to do a project. (That wasn't so bad until he had to sit next to her and she started drawing "distressed" pictures of him.) At lunch, Flash and his gang began to test the L-head’s reflexes by pitching plates of food at him.

Spider-Man could have easily dodged every single one, but Peter Parker couldn’t, so Peter Parker got hit in the face with five plates of spaghetti to avoid any suspicion.

And the crowning jewel of the rotten day was a having to wear a t-shirt with a massive “L” cut into the back of it to gym. Not that he could actually do anything in gym, because he was supposed to still have a dislocated shoulder. His shoulder had healed in less than three days, but Peter knew that it would only stir up more trouble if he let everyone know about his quick healing ability.

The second the bell rang, Peter ran out of the school, headed for the entrance to make himself scarce before… Amanda was already there. He rolled his eyes and climbed into the car.

“Hey, Loser-Man,” she greeted with a smirk.

Too shocked that Amanda knew anything about Loser-Man to be offended, Peter whirled around to face her. “How do you know about that?”

“Eyes and ears everywhere,” she shrugged as she pulled out into the intersection. “They teach you stuff like that in spy school.”

“Do they have bullies in spy school?” Peter asked, sinking miserably down into his seat.

“Yeah, me.” Amanda replied, her eyes fixed on the road. “Is it this turn?”

“No, it’s the next one,” Peter mumbled. “Then a left.”

“Thanks.”

“No need to thank me,” he replied without enthusiasm. “I’m just your friendly neighborhood Loser-Man.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> FINALLY A CHAPTER THAT IS DECENTLY LONG! Man, I don't know what it is, but none of these recent chapters have been anywhere near as long as I wanted them to be! But here it is--the "Peter-goes-to-school-and-gets-teased-relentlessly-for-thinking-he's-a-superhero" chapter that I know everyone has been waiting for. 
> 
> I hope it met your expectations! (And if it didn't, let me know why and I'll make sure I fix that in a later chapter! ;)
> 
> Thank you all so much for reading and leaving so many sweet comments! They truly make my day! (I ADORE feedback. Honestly ADORE it!)
> 
> ~Spinofflady


	9. Electricity and Explosions

 Peter and Amanda arrived home, and Peter managed to remember to jump on the ceiling before Vader tore him to shreds. He stayed on the ceiling as he crawled into his room, slowly lowering himself down after he shut the door. He dropped his bag on his desk and turn to the bed.

He halted as he caught sight of his Stark made suit, stretched out across the bed.

How did it get there? Had Tony given it back? Whatever the answer, it was here, and Peter was going to make good use of it. He quickly wrestled it on and pulled on the mask, smiling broadly as Karen greeted him.

Glancing over his shoulder at the locked door, he climbed out the window. Breathing in a deep breath of the cold air, he prepared to jump.

“Hi, Spider-Man,” a voice from behind him greeted.

Peter gasped and whipped his head around, finding himself face to face with another suited figure; eyes glowing white beneath a navy mask covering only the eyes and nose. Somehow, they were sticking to the side of the building…copycat.

The figure, obviously female and very familiar, tapped a gadget on the side of her head and the mask disappeared. “Nice try.” Amanda glared at him. “I’m glad to know that you will take every opportunity you have to get away.”

Peter was about to give her a snarky response, but he was much more concerned with how she was clinging to the side of the building. “How are you…”

She held up a hand, showing the it was fizzling with blue sparks. “Static electricity. Tony’s idea.”

Okay. That was awesome. “So can you like…shoot electricity at stuff?” Peter asked inspecting her hand closely, zooming in through his suit.

Amanda climbed down on the window ledge beside him. “I don’t know. It does this, though.” She pressed the palms of her hands together and then pulled them apart, blue lines of electricity traveling between her hands.

The eyes of Peter’s suit got wide. “That’s so awesome. Hey Karen, can I do that with a taser web or something?”

“Your suit is not equipped to absorb electrical currents of that strength. I would not recommend trying to harness it.” Karen informed him.

Peter frowned as Amanda continued to play with the electricity flowing between her hands. She was twisting the blue lines up into a ball, and Peter had to admit, it looked awesome—like one of those plasma experiments he did in school.

Of course, Tony had to deck Amanda’s suit out like it was a high school project. Of _course_ he did.

“Well, I bet you can’t keep up with me,” Peter shouted as he webbed the opposite wall and began swinging down the streets. He could hear Amanda calling after him as she frantically crawled along the buildings, hesitating to cross a large gap. Peter smirked. Mr. Stark must have forgotten that she would have to chase him.

One of her electric balls suddenly flew past his head, followed by Amanda, screaming her head off. Peter stopped on the side of a building, staring at Amanda as she clung fearfully to where the ball had landed.

“What just happened?” Peter called as he jumped over to her.

“I have…no idea.” She stared at the wall. “The ball got away from me and when I tried to get it back…” She stopped and began forming another ball as if an idea had come to her. She released the ball, and it landed on the opposite building, fizzling on the side of the wall. She reached out in its direction.

Electricity jumped from her hand to the ball, and she was instantly pulled from one building to the other.

“That is the coolest electromagnetic attraction I have ever seen!” Peter exclaimed, jumping after her to inspect the wall.

“The coolest _what_ you’ve ever seen?” She asked, her eyes wide.

“Electromagnetic attraction,” he replied. “It’s when-”

“Rhetorical question.” She cut him off. “I don’t do science.”

“I thought you were a Psychology major.”

“Psychology is just memorizing who conducted what experiment and on which kind of rat.” Amanda formed another ball, threw it on the roof and pulsed herself to it. “Hey! Web-head! Let’s go!”

Peter leaped after her, halfway thinking about the fact that she’d called him “web-head,” but he was too preoccupied thinking about her totally awesome suit. The media would have a heyday as soon as they found out about her, and certainly everyone would love the idea of a superhero who shot lightning balls from her hands. Stupid fancy electromagnetic suit… A shiver ran up Peter’s arms and the hair on the back of his neck stood up.

Something was wrong.

He slowed his pace, glancing down over the edge of the building. Nothing was out of the ordinary. People were walking, buying hot dogs, and talking to friends like nothing was wrong. And yet…that ever present, uncomfortable tingle wouldn’t leave him alone.

Wait…that girl down there. He knew her. That was Michelle.

She was standing on the corner, her nose buried in a book. Nothing strange there. Peter was about to follow Amanda over the rooftops when the scream of a car horn shattered the quiet. Michelle was now in the crosswalk.

A car, careening down the road and honking incessantly was headed straight for her. Without hesitation, Spider-Man webbed the closest street lamp, and swung down to grab Michelle. But Michelle wasn’t the only person on the street.

Making a split second decision, Spider-Man dropped down between the out of control vehicle and the pedestrians, bracing himself for the impact. The front end of the car slammed into his outstretched hands, pushing him back at least a foot.

Breathing hard, Peter glanced around to see if everyone was okay. Michelle was staring open-mouthed at him, finally drawn out of her book. His gaze turned to the driver of the-

There was no driver of the out of control car.

He hurried around to the passenger door—the only door that was functional at this point—and yanked it open. “Hey! Is anyone in here?”

There was no reply; only a steady beeping from the dashboard compartment. Curious, Peter opened it. A digital clock, slowly counting down from about ten seconds was connected to… Peter suddenly realized what he was looking at.

“Get back!” He yelled frantically. “It’s a bomb!”

The clock reached zero.

 Michelle had been watching over his shoulder, and in one swift motion, he leaped on her to protect her from the detonation.

The explosion hurled Peter and Michelle through a nearby shop window, glass shattering all around them. Michelle screamed as she landed on a pile of the window shards. Everyone inside the shop was shrieking in terror and they desperately tried to exit the area.

Another explosion sounded from outside—the car must have been rigged more than once. There were still more people out there!

Peter dragged himself to his feet and ran out of the store, stopping only for a moment to take in the scene. Sirens were already squealing in the distance. Pedestrians lay on the sidewalk, bleeding and crying in pain.

Overwhelmed, Peter ran to the closest person. “Sir! Sir! Are you okay?”

The man groaned and nodded.

“You have to get out of her! That thing could blow again at any second!”

The man staggered away from the scene as Spider-Man desperately looked for a way to contain the fire. An unexploded IED lay on the road a few feet away. What could he do? Would webbing hold it?

Suddenly, a blue ball of energy flew past his head. Amanda landed beside him. “Get those people out of here!” She shouted as she ran toward the remains of the car, sparks glowing in each of her hands. “I’ll contain the explosions, but I doubt I can hold it for long!”

“Contain this while you’re at it!” Peter shouted back to her, shooting a single web at the IED and tossing it at the pile of rubbish that had once been a car. Amanda slowed to a halt in front of it, beginning to form a large bubble of energy that surrounded the flames.

Spider-Man swung around the block, moving people to a safe distance away. The NYPD had arrived on the scene, as had the fire department, and everyone was jumping in to help.

Peter dropped next to Amanda.

“This thing is going to blow whether I’m here or not!” she gasped, fighting to keep the energy around the massive explosions. “Get those pedestrians out!”

“We’d have to evacuate the entire city!” Peter exclaimed. “There’s no time!” He glanced around for some kind of escape, but there was truly no way out. Unless…

“Quick! Make a ball and shoot it up!” Peter jumped on a building and frantically webbed around Amanda’s force shield…thing. The webs would only contain the electricity and explosions for a few seconds, but hopefully that was enough time to get the whole thing airborne.

Throwing him a concerned glance, Amanda released the energy and began the ball, pushing it toward the sky as forcefully as she could. Peter shot two strands of webs at the ball and hurled the massive thing at the sky, where the two energies attracted and the bombs were pulled upward.

There was a moment of silence.

 ** _BOOM!_** The entire city seemed to shake as the mass combusted, lightening and fire spreading across the sky. It slowly evaporated into smoke.

Peter and Amanda stared at one another, panting heavily.

“I can’t believe that worked,” he whispered.

“I can’t believe you thought of it,” she murmured back.

A sudden throng of reporters surrounded them, all desperate to have their questions answered. “Sorry, gotta run!” Peter saluted them before webbing away. Amanda followed his example and left, chasing after her electric blue balls.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'M SORRY THIS CHAPTER TOOK SO LONG I'VE BEEN SICK AND I HAVEN'T BEEN WRITING BUT HERE IS A CHAPTER I AND THINK IT'S WORTH THE WAIT! Maybe. 
> 
> So this is technically the first action chapter and I had fun with it! I turned up my dramatic music and started mentally exploding stuff! 
> 
> Let me know what you think of this chapter, especially any improvements to make it more riveting. (It's hard to make an action scene that people can't watch!)
> 
> Thanks for reading!  
> ~Spinofflady


	10. Demon Dogs and Spider Sidekicks

By the time Peter and Amanda had fought their way through the media and managed to get home without being seen, Peter’s cellphone was ringing off the hook. He turned it on when he reached his bedroom and began scrolling through the 107 unread messages from May.

_May 5:05pm: Peter! What’s happening? Spider-Man is all over the news!_

_May 5:06pm: IT THAT A BOMB!?!_

_May 5:06pm: *is_

_May 4:07pm: Honey please call me_

_May 5:07pm: Are you okay? I’m so worried_

_May 5:08pm: WHO IS THAT WITH YOU? WHY IS EVERYTHING BLOWING UP?!_

_May 5:09pm: I swear if you don’t call me in the next minute I will take your suit and burn it!_

_May 5:11pm: Peter?_

Before he even took his suit off, Peter dialed his Aunt’s number and put his phone to his ear. It took May half a ring to pick up.

“Peter Parker! Where have you been? What happened? Are you okay?” May’s voice was tight and worried.

“Yeah, I’m fine.” Peter pulled the device slightly away from his ear; May was being _very_ loud. “Somebody put a bunch of bombs in a car. I’m fine, promise. Amanda and I kept the explosions under control.”

“That was Amanda?”

“Yeah! Mr. Stark made her this totally awesome electro-magnetic suit…I’m a little jealous to be honest. She’s like a Sith lord or something.”

May laughed, the nervousness dissolving with it. “I’m sure Tony would do something like that for you.”

“Yeah, but then I’d be copying. That would be even lamer than…” Peter trailed off, not allowing himself to finish the sentence. He couldn’t complain to May. It wasn’t like she wanted to leave him with a babysitter.

“Than a babysitter?”

He might as well have just said it.

“Peter, I know. I promise I didn’t want this to happen. I wish I could have brought you with me…for my sake. Watching you and those bombs…” Now May trailed off, fear lacing her tone.

“I’m safe, May. Promise.”

“I don’t believe you.”

“I have to be safe. Amanda won’t let me out of her sight. She somehow even managed to monitor me at school. Talk about invasion of privacy.”

“I should get her to teach me how to do that.”

“May!” Peter drawled, knowing she was probably serious.

“I just want to know your safe. If they had been some way I could have prevented-” She stopped, going completely silent on the other end.

 _Ben’s death._ Peter knew what she’d been about to say. It was still a raw pain for both of them, Peter perhaps even more so. He _could_ have done something to prevent it. And that knowledge…it was pure torture. For the first few months, it had been almost impossible for Peter to even look around the house. Everything was a reminder of Ben’s absence. Peter had been glad when he and May moved, and he was even more glad that Ben’s favorite armchair hadn’t come with them. That had been the worst reminder of all.

“You still there, Peter?” May’s voice drew him out of his snowballing thoughts.

“Yeah, yeah, I’m still here.” He wasn’t sure what else to follow the statement up with. His adrenaline-filled body was slowly crashing, and he was overcome with the need for sleep. “Um, May? I’m, uh, I’m really tired. Can I call you back?”

May hesitated for only a moment. “Sure, honey. Take a nap and call me when you wake up.”

“Okay. Love you.”

“Peter?”

“Yeah?”

“I’m proud of what you did today. You saved a lot of lives.”

“Thanks, May.” Peter smiled. This was the first time May was proud of something Spider-Man had done. May had always been proud of Peter Parker, but now she was finally proud of Spider-Man. That felt good. Peter gently slipped into a restful sleep as he pondered just how good it felt.

He woke perhaps fifteen minutes later, the hair on his arms standing up and a chill running up and down his spine. Stupid spider-sense had no consideration for his nap. Peter rolled over, coming face to face with…Vader.

The black dog stared at him with soulless, narrowed brown eyes. He stared so intently, it seemed as though he were trying to activate a deadly laser vision. His gentle, steady panting seemed like a ticking clock, going closer and closer to the end of time.

Teen and dog stared at the other with a locked gaze, both deciding whether to make the first move. Slowly, Peter began to sit up. Vader growled and Peter froze. Somehow, staring into the beady eyes of the massive dog was one of the most terrifying things he’d ever done. Without moving his head, Peter glanced around the room, searching for a way of escape. He couldn’t move a muscle without Vader sinking his fangs four inches into Peter’s leg.

Vader must have had some mind reading ability, because the dog immediately leapt onto the bed, his teeth snapping viciously.

With a yell of terror, Peter leapt onto the ceiling, frantically crawling away as Vader jumped up to try and bite him.

“Mandy!” He screamed flattening himself to the ceiling, desperately trying to keep away from Vader’s powerful jaws. “Mandy! Help!”

Amanda came running around the corner, clad in leggings and a hoodie and looked as if she too had just woken up. She surveyed the scene, rolled her eyes, and grabbed Vader’s thick leather collar. “What did you do to make him mad?”

“Nothing! He just jumped on me!”

Amanda sighed and walked Vader back to her room, and as she passed the TV called; “Hey, web-head. We’re on the news!”

Curiosity peaked, Peter walked into the living room and unmuted the TV, plopping down on the couch. Hair-gel guy was reporting on the recent bombing, amateur footage of the incident playing in the background.

“Once again, we can be thankful for our friendly, neighborhood Spider-Man,” Hair-gel guy said, and Peter grinned. “But it seems as though our web-slinging hero has a friend to help him fight crime.” Peter’s grin faded.

“Queens is completely thrilled with this new super hero,” The woman beside hair-gel guy smiled. “She has already been given several titles by the public, including Lightning Queen, Elektra, and Arachnia.”

“I’m pretty sure Elektra’s been taken,” Amanda said from behind him, hoping over the back of the couch and into the seat. “And Lightning Queen has zero ring to it.”

“It does kinda remind me of that Cars movie,” Peter admitted—not that he liked Arachnia or anything. He was the spider, and he wasn’t about to let Miss Copycat steal his gig. “But Arachnia makes no sense. You aren’t a spider.”

“I work with one,” Amanda shrugged. “It’s kind of a big spotlight on you if you think about it, since you we the first spider…thing.”

Well, when she put it like that…No. Stop. Brakes. She didn’t get to be a spider. Period. But then again, was it even up to him? He hadn’t even _really_ picked Spider-Man. Had it been his say, he’d still be going by The Human Spider.

Amanda had pulled out her phone and was scrolling through a bunch of Instagram posts about the recent bombing. “Dude, did you know you have fan pages? There’s tons of them. Someone even role-played you!”

“Really? Ned only told me about a few of them.”

“There’s 15,000 results. And man, are there some weird ones.”

Peter looked over her shoulder, curiously peering at the various posts. There were so many, and he really should start keeping up with what people said about his alter ego. “Wow, maybe I should get an Instagram.”

Amanda stopped scrolling and looked up at him. “You’re into photography, and you don’t have an Instagram.”

He shook his head. “I have Facebook.”

She began to laugh, until tears were pouring down her cheeks. “Facebook? No offense, but that’s the lamest thing I’ve ever heard!”

Peter folded his arms, cheeks burning. “What?”

“Peter, my Grandmother has Facebook. You need to get on something up to date. Or at least Spider-Man does.”

“Why?” He replied, quite skeptically.

“Queens is obviously dying to know what it’s Friendly Neighborhood Loser-Man is up to.”

“Hey, we agreed no Loser-Man!” Peter butt in with a pout.

“Fine. Whatever. But you really do need to stay up to date with people.”

“Won’t that just make it easier for people to guess my identity?”

Amanda hesitated, thinking deeply for a moment. A smile broke out on her face. “Actually, I think it might just be the perfect way to hide it.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So yeah. I'm really bad at updating consistently. And all I have to show for my absence is this lame filler chapter...sorry guys. It'll get better. Promise. Thanks for bearing with me.
> 
> I would ask for your thoughts but after this lameness I don't expect more than a "Ummmmm not the best chapter." Well, I hope you enjoyed it anyway. BETTER CHAPTERS ARE COMING I PROMISE AND THEY WILL HAVE NED AND MJ.
> 
> ~Spinofflady


	11. Amanda's Big Idea

His name was Dan, and he never wanted to be a criminal. He'd been the nerd back in high school, with big glasses and even bigger dreams. College, a degree in engineering…he had his whole life planned out. He just had the wrong group of friends and they got him mixed up in the wrong drugs.

After committing a drug related crime, he’d spent four years in prison. When he finally got out, he discovered that not even Burger King would hire him. So there he was, homeless, starving and friendless, until Mac came along.

See, Gargan was the last person Dan wanted to associate with, but in his miserable state, he didn’t have much of a choice. So he started helping the crazed criminal.

It wasn’t bad at first. Just helping him collect things off the black market and maybe robbing a gas station for cigarettes. He only did the little things that didn’t bother his conscience, and he was thrilled when Mac finally ended up in jail. He’d assumed that was the end of his criminal days.

But then Mac made contact. Said he had a mission, an easy one. Just needed him to screw up a kid’s life a little.

Dan wasn’t exactly game for it, but Mac was known for having a less than understanding attitude, so he agreed.

So here he was, standing outside of a sandwich shop waiting for some teenager that Mac didn’t like. Dan didn’t even know why, but if he wanted to keep his head attached to his neck, he’d better do what Gargan wanted.

A kid ran out with a bag, so quickly that Dan hardly had time to catch a glimpse of him. Wavy brown hair, shorter than average, jacket flopping around as he ran. Seemed like the kid in the info Mac had supplied. Dan jogged around the corner, trying to keep up with the fast moving teen.

A sports car raced past them, purposely spraying water from a puddle over the running teen. The driver of the car laughed and leaned out the window to jeer some rude comments before leaving the teen to walk away dripping wet.

Dan watched as the sports car disappeared. Maybe he didn’t have to ruin the kid’s life. Maybe someone would do it for him.

* * *

Shivering, Peter made his way down the sidewalk. Flash just had to get him soaking wet on the coldest day of October so far. He groaned and tried to shake out his sneakers again. Even the sandwiches were drenched. And he had been looking forward to a meatball sub.

With freezing, grimy water dripping from his coat and hair, Peter made his way back to the apartment building. Amanda had some brilliant idea, and sent him to go get dinner while she set it up. He only agreed because it meant he’d have twenty minutes to himself, even though there were probably trackers in his shoes. And coat. And wallet.

He briefly considered turning around to get another sandwich for at least himself, but he was so cold and wet and miserable that he just wanted to go home and curl up in a ball on the couch. Besides, there must be some kind of food in the freezer, right?

As he walked into the lobby, several people gazed at him with confused and slightly annoyed expressions, especially as he got into the elevator. Truth be told, he did feel bad about covering the floor in dirty water. Maybe he’d come back and mop it up later.

He stuck the key into the lock of his apartment, creaking the door open to make sure Vader wasn’t behind it. The dog seemed to be absent, so Peter cautiously made his way through the entry. Pausing only long enough to stuff the soppy sandwiches in the trash, Peter shuffled to his room.

Amanda was in the living room, setting up a green backdrop and about fifteen different lights. Making a puddle on the floor, Peter stood and watched.

“That’s your big idea?” He asked finally, an eyebrow raised. “A green wall in my living room? For your own good, please don’t go into interior design.”

“This isn’t interior design, smart-aleck. It’s a green screen. We’re going to take pictures with it.” Amanda looked at her laptop, which was situated on the coffee table, and then began adjusting all the lights again.

“Okay… Where’d the lights come from?”

“Mr. Murdock.”

“Mr. Who?”

“Murdock. The neighbor. Upstairs. He’s a photographer.” She looked at him expectantly. Not seeing any recognition she added, “I had background checks done on everyone in the building, and I remembered him.”

“And he just gave you his equipment?”

“I asked very, very nicely. You should take note.”

Peter scowled.

“Go put on some other clothes. Ones that Peter Parker would wear.”

“Like these aren’t clothes Peter Parker would wear,” Peter muttered under his breath, his shoes squeaking as he walked down the hall. Peter stripped out of his wet garments and hoped into the shower, attempting to take the edge off his chill. It took at least five minutes and three gallons of hot water for him to stop shivering.

Wrapping a towel around his waist, and peeking out the door, he bolted for his room. He picked an outfit from the folded laundry on top of his dresser and pulled them on, using the towel to dry his hair off.

He walked back to the living room, where Amanda was inspecting her work.

“Is this Peter Parker enough for you?” He asked, still confused as to what was happening.

She turned. “Yeah, but you’re going to need a coat. The goal of this is to make it look like you’re outside.”

Peter grabbed a coat from the closet. “The goal of what exactly?”

Amanda heaved a sigh. “Currently we have an unresolved issue centered around someone blabbing about being Spider-Man on camera and said video going viral. So, the only way for people not to think that you are Spider-Man, is to make sure they see the two of you in the same place.”

“Well, since I _am_ Spider-Man, that’s kinda slightly impossible.”

“Not for Photoshop.” Amanda gestured to the green screen, and Peter finally caught her drift. 

“So what do I do?” Peter jumped over the couch and stood in front of the green wall.

Amanda offered him a camera. “Take a selfie.”

The two spent forty minutes trying to get the perfect angle, making it look as if Peter was taking a selfie. Half the time was spent watching acting tutorials on YouTube, because Peter turned out to be terrible at pretending he was standing next to his famous self.

Finally satisfied with the Peter portion of the photo, the two moved his bunk bed into the living room and took out the bottom mattress so that Spider-Man could hang in front of the screen for a photo.

Spider-Man’s pictures were far easier, because facial expression didn’t matter. Peter was very proud of himself for blowing Amanda’s mind that he could hang upside down for twenty minutes on end and not even get red in the face.

Having finally taken the shots they needed, Peter changed into pajamas (which happened to be the Hello Kitty pants Tony got him. They were the only ones that were clean…) and put his bed away.

Amanda didn’t laugh at the pants, but at this point it was probably because she expected him to do strange things like put chocolate milk in his blueberry oatmeal and wear girl pants. And speaking of blueberry oatmeal, he was starving. Peter grabbed a plate of leftover spaghetti and stuffed it in the microwave. Taking the plate and a fork back to his room, he curled up in his comforter to eat.

A series of knocks sounded at the front door, and Amanda didn’t respond. She was already editing the photos she and Peter had taken, and she wasn’t about to get off the couch.

The knocks came again, and by now Vader was going so crazy he was probably trying to chew through the wall. With a sigh, she put her laptop aside and headed for the door. Where the heck was Peter?

She opened the door and gazed at the visitor. Ned. She knew him from Tony’s debriefing, which had proved to be far superior to May’s thirty page overview. “Hey Ned. Come on in.” She opened the door for him, but he didn’t move. He just stared at her, as if she had antlers sticking out of her ears.

“You can come in,” she tried again, gesturing with her hand.

He seemed to snap out of whatever trance he was in. “Uh, yeah. H-hi. I’m Ned.”

This was so awkward it hurt. She fought to keep from rolling her eyes. “I know.”

“And you’re Amanda.”

“Yep, I was aware of that.”

“I’m friends with Peter.” He was so stiff it seemed like he might topple over at any second.

“Knew that too.”

“Oh. That’s really smart.” His eyes were still locked on her.

“Peter’s in his room,” Amanda gave him a fake smile before grabbing her laptop and retreating to her own room. And she had thought Peter was awkward…

Ned all but broke down the door of Peter’s room and he tumbled in. “Dude!” he hissed, grinning ear to ear. “Are you blind? She’s _crazy_ hot!”

* * *

 

Dan followed the sports car until it pulled into an alleyway, and a young man and a girl climbed out. Laughing, they made their way to the entrance of a club. Dan highly doubted they were old enough for clubs.

The young man stopped and turned back to the car as if he’d forgotten something, the girl going on ahead. Dan moved into the alley. Now was his chance.

“Hey. Kid.” Dan stood between the club entrance of the club and the car, close enough to be intimidating but not yet a treat. “Aren’t you a little young for clubs?”

“Aren’t you a little old to be acting like my dad?” The teen mocked back.

Dan ignored him. “The kid you soaked earlier. Who was that?”

“Oh, Parker? He’s an idiot.”

This was going very well. “If I told you that I could help you give that idiot some trouble, what would you say?”

“…Yes!”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay, guys! Here is a MUCH better chapter that actually has some plot to it! (Frankly that last one was just pathetic.) 
> 
> What do you all think of Ned having a crush? It just came to me and I thought I'd try it out...seemed like it could end up being funny! 
> 
> Well, I hope you enjoyed this chapter much more than the last one!
> 
> ~Spinofflady


	12. The Intern

“She’s not hot,” Peter about laughed. “Pretty, not hot. And by pretty I mean the kind of pretty I would call my aunt.”

“Suit yourself,” Ned shook his head as he plopped down on the bed beside Peter. “I’ll take her off your hands any day.”

“She’s like…four years older than you, man.”

“So? There’s been bigger age gaps. 16 and 20 isn’t bad. Besides, she only just turned twenty. Do you think I should ask her out?”

“Not if you value your life.”

Ned scowled at him. “Gee, thanks.”

“Ned, I wouldn’t ask her out even as Spider-Man. I don’t think Captain America would have the guts to ask Amanda Harding on a date. You couldn’t even get close enough to ask. Not with her…demon dog.” Peter finished up the last of his Spaghetti and set the plate aside.

Ned was clearly disappointed, but not deterred. “She can’t be that terrifying.”

“She put a machine gun under the bathroom sink, and I think she keeps a handgun her purse. Not to mention the pepper spray under her pillow.”

“How do you know she keeps pepper spray under her pillow? Were you snooping?” Ned’s eyes got wide, as if it were a capital crime.

“No!” Peter crossed his arms defensively. “I was turning the heat up in her room and it was sticking out.”

There were a few moments of silence, but Ned didn’t let it last long. “So…can we talk about that exploding car now? Because that was freaking amazing. You were like ‘Get out of the way!’ and everyone was like ‘ahhh’ and then that Arachnia girl showed up! Dude, it was so epic!”

“Her name isn’t Arachnia.”

“You know her? Are you guys working together? Is she your sidekick?” Ned had officially gone into rapid fire question mode.

“She is _not_ my sidekick.” Peter was not about to let Ned of all people think Spider-Man needed any kind of help.

“Then who is she? Is she like…Thor’s long lost daughter or something?” Leave it to Ned to come up with the most unlikely theory.

“No. She’s…uh…” He had to say something, and it probably couldn’t be the truth. Firstly, he shouldn’t give away her identity for…Amanda’s…sake. (It was painful just to think about doing anything for her sake.) And second, Ned didn’t need to know his new crush was a lightning ninja…spider…thing.

“Come on, Peter! Spill it already!”

“She’s my intern.” Peter blurted out, realizing that it made basically no sense now that it was spoken.

“You have an intern?” Ned looked completely confused.

“Yeah,” Peter went on, less than smoothly. “Mr. Stark assigned her to me.” It wasn’t a _total_ lie.

“That’s…awesome! What do you guys do?”

Ned bought it. For now. “Well, you know, superhero stuff. I show her the ropes. Teach her how to be awesome.”

“So what’s her superhero name?”

Thinking on his feet, Peter gave her the lamest and most boring name he could think of. “The Lightning Thrower.”

“Oh…” Ned’s face screwed up a little. “Is she open to different names?”

“Don’t know,” Peter quipped. “I’d have to ask.”

“Cause I was thinking Bolt…or like, Blue Plasma…”

“Yeah, I don’t think she’d want either of those.” Mostly because they were starting to sound too awesome for Peter’s liking.

“No wait! I’ve got it! Blue Bolt!” Ned dramatically waved his hands as if he were a magician. “It’s got alliteration and everything!”

“Nah…”

“I’m sure your _intern_ would love it, Peter.” Amanda said from the door way, arms folded and the fakest I-am-going-to-kill-you-first-chance-I-get smile Peter had ever seen plastered across her face.

“Yeah, on second thought, she probably would,” Peter tried nervously, imagining Amanda giving Vader the command to tear the flesh off his bones.

“I bet she’d also think it was funny how Tony Stark actually assigned you to her.” Amanda fake smile only grew faker.

“Yeah, hilarious,” Peter replied, a forced smile growing on his face to hide his nervous embarrassment.

Amanda chewed on the inside of her cheek for a moment. “So where’s my sub, Captain Spandex?”

Peter drew in a deep breath. “It, uh…it got all wet. I threw it away.”

“Uh huh.” She gave him one last look and walked away.

Peter heaved a sigh of relief.

“Uh, Peter?” Ned said softly, staring at him with round eyes. “I think I believe you now. She’s terrifying.”

. . .

Peter desperately tried to keep Ned there for as long as possible, knowing that the wrath of his “intern” awaited him. But when Ned left, Amanda said nothing. She just sat on the couch with her headphones in, editing the picture.

Peter waited for her to even speak to him for a full hour, and when she finally did say something, he never could have predicted her words in a million years.

“Are you going patrolling tonight?”

Peter whirled around from his place in the kitchen. “Wait…seriously?”

“Dude, a bomb just went off. You don’t think there’s going to be some idiot out there pulling a follow up stunt? Yeah, seriously.” She looked at him with complete seriousness.

“You would…let me go out? By myself?”

“Sure,” she shrugged, “Karen and I have an arrangement.”

“Did you…hack my suit?”

“More or less. Let’s just say I’m technically still going with you. Like a loyal intern.”

Yeah, that wasn’t going away anytime soon. But more importantly…“You know how to hack into a Stark-made suit?”

Amanda rolled her eyes. “I’m a retired spy. Hacking is quite literally the first thing they teach you.”

“So if you were to take on Black Widow, would you win?”

“Are you always this random?”

“That wasn’t random.”

“How is hacking and getting in a fight with Black Widow related?”

“Because you’re both retired spies. Oh! Or Hawkeye. I’m pretty sure he was a spy too. Could you beat him? But he does have a disadvantage since he’s basically deaf. And you obviously have super hearing-”

“It’s trained attention.”

“-so that would make you Hawkears! Get it?” Peter cracked himself up with his own joke, but Amanda remained as stoic as ever.

“Are you going patrolling tonight or not?”

Peter sobered immediately. “Yes.”

“Then go. Before your rambling drives me insane.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ah yes. Ned and Peter. I love these two. I had lots of fun with this chapter, so I hope you enjoyed!
> 
> Let me know your thoughts in the comments!
> 
> ~Spinofflady


	13. Revenge of the Intern

Whether he was being tracked or not, this was incredible. Peter hadn’t been patrolling in what felt like years. The night air was crisp and chilled his lungs as he breathed it in deeply. Queens was his once again, and he didn’t have Miss Copycat hot on his heels.

He webbed between the buildings, flying over the streets of the city. He climbed past a few open windows, and on one occasion, there were three little kids inside. The apartment was run down, and it was clear that their family just barely made do with what they had. So Peter stopped outside the window and waved, just to be nice.

One of them, presumably the oldest rushed to the window and opened it with pure glee. Peter stayed and talked with them, hanging onto the wall, until their mother came in and made them go to bed. Peter was sad to see them go. They were actually a ton of fun.

Talking with the kids gave him an idea. Maybe he should swing by the hospital and see if he could cheer up any of the victims from the incident that afternoon. In his young and impulsive mind, it seemed like the perfect way to spend his night. So he raced off to the hospital, forgetting all about the fact that he was supposed to be patrolling.

He reached the hospital and strutted in the door, attempting to pull off some kind of Tony Stark swagger. It didn’t work, because the receptionist only stared at him as if he were drunk.

“Can I help you?” She asked politely, though clearly uninterested in anything he might have to say.

“I don’t know, _can_ you?” Peter tried to pull off his English teacher’s favorite joke, but it didn’t come close to having the desired effect. The receptionist was now probably convinced he was drunk. “Well, I would like to visit some of the patients.” Maybe if he got down to business she’d lighten up.

“Who?” She asked, starting to pull something up on the computer.

“Anyone who was hurt in the bombing this afternoon,” he replied, hopping up on the desk to look at what she was doing.

“Please get off.”

Peter obliged, realizing that this lady had absolutely no sense of fun.

“ID please,” she continued, holding out her hand.

“I can’t give you my ID! I’ve got a secret identity!” Peter was appalled that she would even bother to ask a superhero for his ID. Maybe she was just stupid.

“If you won’t give me an ID, I can’t let you upstairs.” She gestured to the patient ward on the upper level.

“I could give you an autograph instead,” he offered.

She scowled. “This isn’t a joke.”

“Oh, trust me, you’ve made that explicitly clear!”

“Sir, there’s a waiting room down the hall. You’re welcome to wait there until the next receptionist comes so you can try and bribe her.” With that, she sat back down and pulled out her phone.

“Rude,” Peter mumbled under his breath as he scampered down the hallway walls. Just as the receptionist had said, there was a waiting room on the right. Peter walked in, finding it completely empty. There was a TV playing some old western movie, and a bathroom off to the side.

The room had an odd sense to it, one that made Peter feel that he wasn’t alone. “Hey Karen, is there somebody else in here?” he asked the AI promptly.

“My sensors indicate that there is a female of about 16 years in the bathroom,” Karen answered, professional as ever. “Would you like to see her?”

“Ew, gross, Karen! No!” Peter nearly covered his eyes at the thought of Karen turning on X-ray vision or something. “Let’s just go.”

As if on cue, the girl in the bathroom walked out.

Both of them stood there staring at the other in awkward silence, because the girl in the bathroom proved to be none other than Michelle Jones herself.

Peter desperately tried to think of a reason to explain why he was hanging on the ceiling and staring at the door, but Michelle came up with a question first.

“Are you stalking me?”

“What? No! I’m just…hanging out…on the hospital ceiling…” Oh, he was so bad at thinking on his feet. “Why are you here?”

“Because I got blasted through a store window by a bomb,” she replied with no expression whatsoever. She held up her arm, which Peter now saw was wrapped in a gauze. 

“Oh. That must hurt.” Peter slowly lowered himself down from the ceiling, because for whatever reason being upside down was beginning to make him feel…weird.

“It doesn’t.” Michelle continued standing where she was.

Peter knew she wasn’t much for conversation, but she was making this practically impossible. After all, he had just saved her life that afternoon, the least she could do was talk to him. But then it dawned on him, Michelle knew Peter Parker. Spider-Man was a perfect stranger. Maybe she was scared of him or something.

He backed up a few steps, trying to make it look natural. “Are you waiting on a ride? It’s getting kinda late.”

“My step-dad is coming to get me.”

“Is he gonna be much longer?”

“Is that any of your business?”

Well, scratch anything about Michelle being scared of him. “No, but…I figured if he was gonna take a while then… I could walk you home. If you wanted.”

Michelle stared at him. “And why would you do that?”

“Cause I’m your friendly neighborhood Spider-Man!” Peter replied enthusiastically.

“Yeah, but why would you _do_ it?”

What was she even asking? Maybe Karen could translate… but he’d have to ask her out loud and that would be awkward. He’d just have to wing it. “Cause…I’d feel bad if I didn’t at least offer?”

Michelle watched him for a moment, her dark brown eyes seemingly scanning him right through the suit. Her eyes were very _knowing,_ as if she could understand every tiny little detail about him and piece it together into a bigger picture. “You know,” she began, “for a superhero, you have a pathetic amount of conviction.”

Peter was shocked. “What do you mean? I have conviction!”

“So would you or would you not feel bad if you didn’t offer to walk me home?”

“I would!”

“Then why did you say it like a question?”

“I didn’t!”

“You did.”

“Did not!”

“Did too.”

“Did not!”

“You argue like a four year old.”

“I do not!”

“Then why do you keep getting whinier with every answer?”

“I’m not!”

“You are.”

“I am not!” Peter suddenly realized just how whiny he was, and also just how close he had gotten to Michelle. Apparently during their little argument they had both been stepping closer, and now it was just plain awkward.

And then the unthinkable happened.

Karen started playing the jazziest, most romantic music Peter had ever heard through the speakers of his suit.

He jumped back in surprise. “Karen! Turn that off, right now!”

“Due to the Young Love Protocol, I am unable to do that,” Karen told him. “However, the speakers are enabled through the drone in your suit. If you release it, the signal will stop.”

Michelle was staring at him with pure confusion. “Droney! Get off! Go! Fly!” Peter clawed at the little spider until it separated from his suit, but instead of stopping the music, the drone started shining hundreds of little spider hearts across the walls.

“Karen!” Peter bellowed. “What is wrong with you!?”

“My apologies, Peter. I’m only trying to be a good intern.”

Peter stopped. _Let’s just say I’m technically still going with you. Like a loyal intern._ Amanda’s arrangement didn’t have anything to do with tracking Karen. Amanda arrangement was _being_ Karen.  “I swear, you will pay for this!” Peter yelled, as he raced around the room in attempts to capture the rogue drone. “Turn this music off now!”

“Activation completed. All activity is now transferred directly to Tony Stark.”

“What? No! What kind of activation is that? I didn’t set that up!”

“Activation completed. You are now live streaming on CNN’s Facebook page.”

“Mandy, stop!” Having given up on the drone, Peter desperately made his way to the door.

“Password accepted.”

“Password…for what?”

“Image projection on your suit.”

Michelle’s laughter erupted from being him. “Hey, love bug! You’ve got a dancing heart on your butt!”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yay MJ finally makes a decent appearance! (Expect more of her from now on) And speaking of MJ, how did I do? HC didn't give me much to work with since she has like...8 lines.


	14. Puzzle Pieces

After the incident with Michelle at the hospital, Peter began to pick up on what and what not to do with Amanda. He learned that Amanda didn’t care how his day at school was, but if it was particularly bad she would get him hot chocolate on the way home. He learned that as long as his alarm didn’t wake her up, she was peaches and cream throughout the day. Apparently Vader was her alarm clock, and if she was disturbed by anything else she was meaner than the Grinch on steroids.

He learned that when she said she was bad a directions, she meant that she was incapable of learning her way around. He also learned that he should never tell her that.

It didn’t take him long to realize that she really hated going patrolling at night, and that if he played his cards right she’d let him go out by himself. He knew she had reinstalled a tracker in his suit, but he was beginning to not mind it so much. As long as he did what he said he was going to do and was home before one-thirty, Amanda let him go wherever he pleased.

She was much more lenient than May or Tony, and definitely more that Peter had expected her to be. “I’m not here to take away your freedom or independence,” she would say, “I’m just here to make sure you don’t kill yourself while you’re at it.”

And true to her word, that was all she did. She didn’t make him meals, she didn’t do his laundry, and half the time she just hid out in her room and did school work. When Peter thought about it, he had to be more independent with Amanda than with May. It was, in all honesty, much better than he ever imagined it could be. He didn’t think of her as a babysitter at all. Just kind of a…safety net that he could fall on if he ruined everything somehow.

And of course, there was Ned. Peter’s best friend had come up in conversation, and he accidentally let Ned’s little crush slip. Amanda had just laughed and said she already knew. The conversation that followed was rather eye opening for Peter, as he learned that girls almost _always_ have crushes figured out before anyone comes clean about them.

And speaking of girls, shortly thereafter Peter discovered that Amanda had hacked his Facebook account and sent none other than Liz Allen a friend request. Peter had, of course, been horrified, until Liz accepted it that is.

Amanda had also hacked (she did a lot of hacking in her spare time) several news social media accounts, and posted the edited picture they took, along with a brief message about how Peter finally had a chance to meet his hero. The idea seemed to work amazingly, and no one had mentioned the “video” at school for several weeks.

One Sunday afternoon, Peter was sitting on the couch finishing up some homework, and Amanda was at the kitchen table studying for a test on Freud or something, when there was a knock at the door. Vader could be heard snarling from Amanda’s bedroom. Neither one moved, expecting the other to answer the door.

The knock came again.

“Mandy, there’s someone at the door,” Peter mumbled, trying to wrap his head around the advanced calculus problem in front of him.

“So? Get your lazy butt off the couch and answer it.” She was clearly nose deep in her Psychology textbooks, and probably wouldn’t move if the President told her too.

So Peter caved, and headed for the door. He unlocked it, opened it, and looked out in surprise. “Michelle? What are you doing here?”

“Today’s Sunday. The project?” She looked at him with the most expressionless face Peter had ever seen.

“Oh, oh, right.” Peter opened the door wider. “Come on in.”

He had totally forgotten about the project he and Michelle had been assigned to work on together, and her hardly even remembered setting a date to do so. Peter attempted to lead her into the living room, but Michelle saw Amanda and decided she needed to know more.

“Who are you?” she asked Amanda, standing with her hands in her pockets.

“Amanda,” Amanda replied. “I’m Peter’s cousin. His aunt’s out of town so I’m staying with him.”

Peter and Amanda had come up with the answer after a store clerk asked them if they were siblings, and each gave a different answer. They decided that there needed to be a certain response given every time, so that no one got suspicious. Michelle, however, seemed to be suspicious anyway.

She gave a quick half nod, and without bothering to introduce herself, continued on to the living room. She sat down and opened up her backpack, pulling out her laptop and several textbooks, never once saying a word to Peter or Amanda.

Awkwardly, Peter retrieved the handout that the teacher had given to them in weeks prior, and sat down across from Michelle. “So…do you have a topic idea?” he tried to start a conversation.

“No. That’s what we’re doing today.”

“Right.” This was going to be a very interesting couple of hours.

They attempted to trade ideas for at least twenty minutes, but since neither one was very skilled in communication, they managed to go nowhere.

Peter finally went to get a glass of water, and shot Amanda an exasperated glance. She smirked and made her way to the living room. “So,” she began, "what’s this project on?”

“It’s supposed to be on like…biology and how it affects human behavior or something.” Peter said as he returned with water for himself and Michelle. “We have to do a social experiment on it.”

Amanda stared at him for a moment. “I’m ashamed of you, Peter. The two of you just wasted twenty minutes of valuable time while I, the psychology major, am studying the biopsychosocial approach, and you didn’t think to ask me for help?”

Michelle turned and glared at him. “Are you for real? Why didn’t you mention her in the first place?”

Peter racked his brain for a lame excuse, but Amanda was already headed for her textbooks, and Michelle clearly wouldn’t accept even a good excuse.

And so the three sat scouring through her various textbooks, pitching and rejecting ideas for the next hour and a half. Finally, they decided to conduct an experiment to see which gender was more likely to donate to a charity when asked on the spot.

The next day, Peter and Michelle met on a street corner after school, and began to beg people for their spare change. Amanda sat in her car in a paid parking space, claiming that there was no way on earth she was sitting in the cold for two and a half hours.

The first hour went by with no success. Not one person even looked twice at their little stand, much less stopped to see what they were collecting donations for. Amanda finally came over to see how they were doing.

“No one will stop,” Peter sighed. “It’s like we’re invisible.”

“Wait…you aren’t going up to people and talking to them?”

“No,” Michelle responded, barely peeking out of her jacket hood. “Why should we?”

Amanda sighed heavily. “Because people aren’t going to stop in the cold to talk to you. You have to do the initiating.” With that, she headed back to her car.

Peter was honestly worried that Michelle might flip someone off if she had to talk to them, so he grabbed the pamphlets and a jar and began approaching people on the street. One old lady gave him a five dollar bill and told him he was cute, and a little kid in a Yankee’s baseball cap dropped in a few quarters because he was “trying to get on the nice list in time for Santa to start getting his presents,” but that was all.

Michelle tried next, and just as Peter had predicted, she flipped a random guy off for not donating.

After two and a half grueling hours of freezing their butts off, they packed up and shivered all the way back to Amanda’s car. After dropping off the $7.75 at the selected organization, they stopped at a Starbucks for warm drinks. The three huddled in a back corner, as they waited for their order to be ready. A barista finally brought their cups over, and said something close to an apology for the wait.

“This is awful,” Michelle immediately announced as she took a sip of her coffee.

“It really is,” Amanda agreed. “They brewed this way too long.”

“I don’t like coffee,” Peter put in. “So it wouldn’t taste good anyway.”

Michelle stared at him—something Peter was beginning to get used to. “How do you…like, function?”

“I…sleep?”

Amanda spit a mouthful of her coffee back into the cup and laughed. “Yeah, right! You sleep for about two hours every night.”

“I get more than that!” Peter crossed his arms. “And I’d get even more if I didn’t have to listen to your stupid dog bark at me all the time.”

“I’m pretty sure he wouldn’t bark at you if you weren’t up at such an ungodly hour.”

“It’s not like I have a choice, Mandy.”

The argument continued for some time, but to one observant member of the group, it had just been the last piece to a puzzle that was now complete.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yeah, I know. This chapter was pretty blaa. BUT the next chapter will finally be diving into the plot of the story so YAY THAT! 
> 
> Keep me updated on your thoughts in the comments!
> 
> ~Spinofflady


	15. Good Night, Mr. Stark

Today was weird. First, Michelle had been watching him constantly, and then Flash—like, _the_ Flash Thompson—asked him to go to a party. And weirdest of all, Peter actually said yes.

He didn’t know why, he certainly didn’t want to, but for some reason he agreed to go. Maybe it was because he’d always wondered what it would be like to go to one of Flash’s notoriously awesome parties. Maybe it was because he’d just given an answer before his brain could think it through. Who knows.

Amanda picked him up from school that afternoon, and as soon as he climbed into the passenger’s seat he asked “Can I go to a party?”

“A party?”

“Yeah, like with food and music and stuff.”

“I’m aware of the definition of party, Peter. Why do you want to go?”

“Um…cause I kinda already said I’d be there?”

Amanda rolled her eyes. “No drugs. No alcohol. And I _will_ be giving you a test for both when you get back.”

“I’m too young to drink anyway.”

“Well, I’m glad your morals are in decent shape, but you’re still getting a test.”

Peter finished up his homework that afternoon and by 8:00 o’clock he was headed out the door.

“Be back by midnight or you will regret it!” Amanda called after him. “And no drinking!”

“Got it!” he grinned as he climbed out the window, webbing the next building.

Amanda could hear shouting with glee as he made his way down the alley. His energy was endless. To be honest, she wasn’t sure if she hated it or loved it. She wasn’t an energetic person. She wasn’t a happy go lucky person. She wasn’t even, by her standards, an exceptionally _nice_ person. But Peter? He was all that, and it really was starting to grow on her. He reminded her of Luke.

She smiled at the thought of her little brother. She hadn’t seen her family in so long. After New York City and the end of S.H.I.E.L.D. she hadn’t wanted to see them. Half the time she didn’t even want to see her dog. And now, when she wanted nothing more than to see her family…now it was impossible.

She stood in the living room, gazing at the open window. She should close it, but for whatever reason the cold air seemed like the only thing grounding her in the current reality. What was she doing here? Why had she let herself come back to this—to S.H.I.E.L.D., to the Avengers, to Tony Stark? Why couldn’t she keep herself away?

She knew the answer though. She kept coming back because there was nowhere else to go. This was all she knew. Her entire life had taught her one thing: to be the best agent S.H.I.E.L.D. could create. To do what was asked of her. To not question authority.

No matter how many times she tried to take control of her life she was going to come crawling back because she _needed_ someone to tell her what to do.

And she _hated_ that fact.

She had no aspirations—well, none other than the fake ones she made herself believe she wanted.  She didn’t know what to do with her life unless someone was there to tell her what to do. She had no reason to get out of bed in the morning, no real passion that was driving her to be accomplished.

But there was Peter.

It was wrong. It went against every fiber in her body; everything that had every been drilled into her brain. He meant something to her, and that was dangerous. He felt like one of her brothers, pulling pranks and practical jokes and then doing something sweet to make up for it.

A good agent never let anyone mean anything to them. They had no friends, no loved ones. A good agent never gave anyone anything that could be used against them.

But she wasn’t an agent anymore. She was her own self. She didn’t belong to S.H.I.E.L.D. She could do as she wished and all that she wished for was someone to give her a mission. Then Amanda could stop existing and Agent Harding could simply do her job.

Agent Harding was invincible. Agent Harding could hack into the White House security for fun. Agent Harding never had to think about what she wanted, or where she was going, or who she might have to kill.

Agent Harding just had to do as she was told. No questions asked.

But Amanda… Amanda had to live with the things that Agent Harding had done. She had to admit to them, feel the guilt and sorrow, and toss and turn in bed at night. She wanted to just be rid of Amanda forever.

Maybe the reason she took this job was because it was the closest she could be to Agent Harding.

Her cell phone rang. Sleepily, she rolled over on the couch and grabbed it. At some point she must have laid down and fallen asleep. Blinking in the lamplight, she answered her phone.

“Hello?”

“Amanda, it’s Tony Stark.”

Amanda glanced at the clock. “Only you would be so rude as to call at 2:30 in the morning.”

“Couldn’t sleep.”

“Well, I could.”

“No need to rub it in,” came Stark’s snappy reply. “Listen, I wanted to check in on the kid. How’s he doing?”

“Fine?” Amanda replied slowly. “Can this conversation not happen at a decent hour?”

“Put him on, I wanna run something by him.” His voice was beginning to reveal that he was a bit tipsy.

“Tony, it’s _two thirty-seven._ ”

“I’ll be quick!” Yeah, he was definitely drunk.

“Good night.”

“Put the kid on or your fired.”

“Good night, Tony.”

“I can always cancel your check.”

“Have a good evening, Mr. Stark.” With that, she turned the call off. Seconds later it rang again. Stark. She answered.

“Yes?”

“You’re fired.”

“Of course, Mr. Stark. Good night.”

“Oh for the love of…can you please just tell the kid that I need him to come by my lab tomorrow?”

“Certainly, Mr. Stark. _Good night._ ” Amanda hung up again and hauled herself off the couch, headed for her bedroom. She might as well spend the remaining hours of night, however few they might be, in bed. She noticed that Peter’s door was open, and she decided to shut it so Vader didn’t go in during the night. She would never understand why that kid was so terrified of dogs.

She reached for the door handle and stopped. Peter’s bed was…empty.  Suddenly wide awake, she flicked the light on in his room. He wasn’t there.

In a flash, she was dialing Tony Stark’s number on her phone. It took him a full minute to pick up, during which time she was pulling on a coat and some shoes.

“What happened to ‘ _Good night,_ Mr. Stark’?” Tony asked smugly.

“Can it, Stark.” Amanda grabbed her keys and headed for the door. “Peter’s not here.”

“Well, where is he?”

“He went to a party and was supposed to be home two and a half hours ago.”

“So you don’t know.”

“No, I don’t. And if I just put that stupid trackers in his web shooters I might be able to find him.”

“I’m sorry, I thought I hired you to _babysit_ him. This seems to me like you aren’t doing your job properly.”

“I said ‘can it, Stark!’” Amanda shouted as she climbed into her car. “Can’t you shut up and just start scanning the city or something?”

“What’s the magic word?” he hiccupped.

“DO IT NOW OR SO HELP ME I WILL BURN YOUR LAB DOWN! THIS ISN’T A JOKE!”

“Alright, geez. I’ll call you if I find something.”

Of all the perfectly inconvenient and horrible times for Tony to be drunk, it had to be now.

“Don’t I get a good night?”

Amanda groaned. She was definitely going to quit her job after this. “Good night, Mr. Stark.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Peter's missing, Tony's drunk, and Amanda's ticked. What could possibly be worse? (Answer: A lot of things, and I, the author, have only begun making things worse. Muahahahaha...ok I'll stop.)
> 
> Tell me in the comment what you think happened to Peter!
> 
> ~Spinofflady


	16. Or Something

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> **Vomit Warning**

She was quitting. When she found Peter she was taking him the Avenger’s compound, dropping him off, and quitting. Stark could deal with the rotten kid. She and Vader we going back to Port Leyden and she was going to shoot the next person who asked her to do anything that had to do with S.H.I.E.L.D. or the Avengers or anything even loosely related to the two. She was two hundred percent sure she was quitting.

Amanda stopped at a red light, scanning the corner for any sign of Peter. No one was out—not on this miserable night. It was precisely _two_ degrees out, and the temperature was dropping. She shivered despite her heat being cranked up to full power.

She was tired, too. Exhausted, actually. It was three o’clock in the morning, and she just wanted to be in bed, at home, asleep. She definitely didn’t want to be out looking for this untrustworthy, irresponsible, teenager who should have been home three hours ago.

Annoyed, she sighed and stopped at the sixth red light that night…morning. She was literally the only car on this road. Why was there a red light? She leaned against her window, suddenly perking up as she noticed some movement in an alley up ahead. Curious, she drove up (once the light turned, of course) and turned on her high beams.

There, standing with his head in a dumpster, was Peter Benjamin Parker.

And, _oh,_ did she have a bone to pick with him.

Furious, she hit the button on the dash to put on her flashers, and put the car in park before climbing out into the cold. It hit her like an icy wall, but she braved it anyway.

“Peter!” She shouted as she marched over, “What in the-” she stopped, almost out of disgust as she realized why his head was in a dumpster. He was puking. Like _really_ puking. Like visibly painful, gasping for air, _puking._

She stood for a moment, totally unsure of what to do. Then her phone rang.

Grateful for a reason to just leave the puking Peter alone for a few seconds more, she answered the call. It was Stark.

“Did you find him?” He sounded even more intoxicated than before.

“Yeah, I found him.” Amanda wasn’t even sure how to respond to the situation. She was a bit deflated now, since she couldn’t exactly go give him what for while he was throwing up his entire stomach.

“Well, where is he?” Tony demanded.

How was she even supposed to respond? “Throwing up in a dumpster off of Twelfth Street…I think he’s drunk.”

Peter gave a mangled reply, something along the lines of “no, I’m not.”

And Tony…laughed. Amanda grew more and more confused as Tony laughed harder and harder before finally choking out, “Lightweight!”

To say Amanda was infuriated was an understatement. “Good grief, grow up already, Tony,” she spat. “Don’t call me until your sober, I’ll be too busy being the mature one of us.” With that, she hung up the phone and tactfully began to approach Peter, who seemed to have gotten everything out of his system.

“You had one job,” she shook her head in disgust as she helped him slowly stand up straight. “Come home before midnight without getting drunk. And what do you do? Stay out until three getting drunk!”

“’M not...drunk,” Peter murmured as he gripped the edge of the metal bin for support.

“Yeah, and I’m Captain America. Come on, Spandex, move your butt. Let’s go.”

“No…Mandy…’m gnna be sick.” He halted, teetering back and forth before heaving up another stomach full of only God knows what, right on Amanda’s shoes.

With half a groan, she stepped out of the way trying not to think about was covered her feet, and started dragging the still retching Peter back to her car.

By the time they made it back to the apartment complex, Peter had thrown up twice on the floor by the passenger seat.

This was every babysitter’s worst nightmare. Except this was worse, because she couldn’t just call the parents and tell them to come home. Technically speaking, she _was_ the parents. Hooray.

They managed to make up the elevator and into the Parker apartment with only one mess in the hallway, which Amanda reluctantly cleaned up. “Why is everyone getting drunk tonight?” she muttered to herself. “It’s not even Saturday.”

She made her way back into the apartment, slowly coming to the realization that she probably wouldn’t be getting anymore sleep that night, no matter how tired she was.

Peter had retreated to his room, and as much as she wanted to stay away from his drunken state, she knew what the responsible thing to do was. At least maybe from now on he’d know better than to go drinking at parties. She grabbed a can of Sprite and some Ibuprofen on her way in.

Peter was curled up on his bed, still wearing his heavy coat and boots. She had to admit, he looked pathetic. Big brown puppy dog eyes surrounded by dark circles, checks flushed red from either vomiting or cold (maybe both): he was a mess.

She opened the can, dumped out two of the pain relieving tablets, and handed him both. “This should ease up the hangover,” she told him flatly.

“I’m not hungover,” he replied softly, taking the items from her anyway.

“Really?” she replied with her hands on her hips. “You got a headache?”

“Yeah.”

“Dizzy?”

“Yeah.”

“Feel like you’ve got the worst stomach flu possible?”

“Yeah.” He sounded more defeated that time.

“That, Peter, are symptoms of a hangover. Still not convinced?”

“I wasn’t drinking, Mandy, I promise.” He stared up at her, as if pleading for understanding. He eyes closed as his face morphed into a grimace. “Ohhhhh, my head.”

“Enough with the crap already!” Mandy crossed her arms, wondering how on earth he could keep denying something that was so obviously true. Maybe he’d never actually been exposed to alcohol before and couldn’t have identified it… “What did you drink?”

“Lemonade.”

Well, so much for that theory. He was just flat out lying.

“I trusted you, Peter. You said you would stay out of trouble and I, perhaps foolishly, believed you. The least you could do is admit that you are obviously-” Peter started to retch again. “…About to puke on the bed.” Amanda grabbed the trashcan from beside his desk and rushed forward. “Nope! Lean over! I’ve cleaned up enough puke for one day!”

She tried not to think too hard about the situation as Peter barfed into the plastic can. Her day just kept getting better.

He finally got his stomach under control and rolled away from her, whimpering . If she wasn’t so ticked at him for going out and getting drunk, she might have some sympathy. _Might._

She stood, making a face at the contents of the can. She was trying to decide if she should clean it out or just leave it, because he was bound to throw up again. But the stench was awful so she very quickly decided it needed to be cleaned.

And then she realized that the whimpering…was actually crying. More confused than sorry for him, she hesitated. “Hey,” she softly tapped the back of his shoulder. “What’s going on?”

“It hurts,” he swallowed, trying to keep it together. “It hurts so bad.”

“What hurts? Your head?”

“No, my stomach.”

She fought to keep from rolling her eyes. “Well, of course it does. You just puked for a solid two minutes.”

“No, Mandy,” he cried(actually cried), “It’s like knives. All over.”

He curled in on himself in such an awkward an unnatural way that Amanda was starting to be genuinely concerned. Could he had had too much alcohol and his body couldn’t handle it? That couldn’t be the case. Not with the whole Spider-powers thing.

Come to think of it, Peter should be able to tolerate more alcohol than an adult man three times his size. Maybe he wasn’t drunk. Maybe this was some sudden stomach bug…or something.

She glanced again at the contents of the can, and in the lamplight, she suddenly noticed a few traces of red. Eyes widening, she realized it was blood.

This was definitely “or something.”

She set the trashcan aside and knelt next to the bed. “Peter, did you leave your leave your drink anywhere during the party?”

“It…was lemonade. I promise.”

“I believe you.” She rubbed his back in the attempts to get him to turn and face her. “But did you leave your cup alone?”

“I…I think so.” He rolled over, tears streaming down his face.

“Did it have your name on it?”

“Yeah.”

She breathed out heavily. This was bad. And it was getting worse. This was bad to the point where she was considering calling 911. It would be really nice if Tony wasn’t drunk right now. She could use some help.

Or _something._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Dun dun DUN! (Actually this doesn't really deserve a dun dun dun but who cares lol) AnyWAY...here is your chapter! This is basically me giving myself an excuse to write fluff and angst while attempting to weave it into a plot. Eh. It worked...kinda.
> 
> Lemme know what you thought of my pitiful attempt in the comments XD
> 
> ~Spinofflady


	17. Drink Spiking Or Something

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *More Vomit Warnings*

“Okay, scale of one to ten, how bad does it hurt?” Amanda prodded, sucking in a deep breath to calm herself, attempting to recall the information she’d learned in that first aid course from two years ago.

“Twenty,” Peter choked out in reply, arms wrapped around his stomach.

“I’m calling 911.” Amanda rose decidedly, knowing that Peter was one to minimize pain.

“No!” Peter reached out and grabbed her arm before she turned away, his eyes pleading and desperate. “Please Mandy, no hospitals.”

Taken back, Amanda struggled to find a response. “You threw up blood.”

Peter swallowed heavily, cringing for a moment. “That happens when you puke a lot. Please. Don’t call.”

“Peter, you are literally writhing in pain.” She tried to pull out of his grasp, but she was suddenly beginning to realize just how strong he was. “I’m not about to let you-”

“They’ll take a blood test. They’ll _know._ ”

Amanda’s eyes widened in realization. He wasn’t being stubborn. He actually had a legitimate reason not to go. His blood would obviously have traces (if not boatloads) of radioactivity. He would be immediately carted off to a lab and then be experimented on like some kind of animal. She bit her lip. This was not going to end well if she listened to him. But there was an even bigger chance it would end worse if she didn’t. Why did he have to be right?

“I don’t know why I’m listening to you,” she groaned, grabbing the trashcan from off his desk. “Wait here.”

She left the can in the hallway as she grabbed the drug detection kit she’d had since her days with S.H.I.E.L.D. and walked it and the trashcan to the kitchen where she prepared to test the vomit for drugs or other toxins. After several minutes of disgusting work. The little machine beeped, and Amanda stared at it in near denial. _Rohypnol: positive._

Someone had actually spiked his drink. She couldn’t believe it. She was a perfect idiot; letting him go to a party with _drugs._

She whipped out her cell phone and did a quick search on the drug, discovering that it was supposed to make one black out and have memory lapses. This must have been someone’s sick idea of a practical joke.

She cleaned up the mess as while brooding internally, grabbing a glass of lukewarm water on her way back to Peter’s bedroom. He looked completely relieved when she entered the room, though it was clear he was still in immense pain.

“Good news and bad news,” Amanda said as she pulled a pair of pajamas from his dresser. “Good news is, you’re not dying. Bad news is, someone spiked your lemonade with Rohypnol.”

“What’s that?” he whispered, as if talking any louder would make him sick.

“A drug,” she replied. “Most people wouldn’t be able to expel a drug of this strength. The reason you feel like your insides are being shredded is cause your body is trying to get rid of it. We’re going to help it out a bit.”

To miserable to protest in the slightest, Peter willingly allowed her to sit him up and take off his at this point nasty winter coat and jacket, pulling off his boots and walking him into the bathroom. She handed him the pajamas and told him to get changed.

Apparently he only had the energy to change his pants, and ended up laying shirtless on the bathroom floor in his Hello Kitty PJs by the time she came back with a bottle of Hydrogen Peroxide.

She poured just a tiny bit of it into the glass of water, and swirled it around for a moment. “This will make you even more sick, but it should help get the drugs out of your system faster.” He shot her a pleading look, as if begging her not to make him drink it, but wordlessly swallowed the liquid anyway.

Five minutes later, he was hugging the toilet bowl as he gagged over what little bile was still left in his stomach. Amanda had to force crackers down his throat to avoid dry heaving, but not without him tearfully begging her not too.

“This sucks,” he muttered as he collapsed on the bathroom floor after heaving up a slice of bread. “And I hate you.”

“Life sucks,” Amanda replied dryly, flushing the toilet with her foot, seating beside him on the floor. “And I hate you too.”

“My throat hurts.”

“I can imagine.”

A pause.

“I want my aunt.”

Amanda looked over at him, finding big fat water droplets spilling over his cheeks again. “I can call her if you want, but it is four o’clock in the morning.”

“I know. I just want her. Here.” He brushed a few tears off his checks.

“What would she do if she was here?”

“I dunno. I haven’t been sick in a really long time.” He stopped to throw up again. Amanda flushed the toilet with her foot. Peter wiped his mouth with the back of his hand and continued. “She used to tell me stories and we’d sit up late and watch movies and stuff.”

“That sounds nice.”

“Is it hot in here?”

“Nope, just you.” Amanda stood and ran some cold water over the closest washcloth, rang it out, and draped it over the back of Peter’s neck.

“May does that,” Peter told her softly, licking his cracked lips. He grimaced. “My stomach’s cramping again.” His muscles visible tightened as he curled in on himself with a moan. Amanda placed a gentle hand between his shoulder blades, surprised by how clammy and warm his skin was. The washcloth had already lost its cooling affect, and with a small sigh, she stood to rinse it again.

She glanced at her watch as she laid it across his neck again. _4:15._ She yawned. There was no way Peter was going to school today, so maybe they could just sleep instead. He was clearly just as exhausted as her. The moment he was given a rest from the all but constant vomiting, his eyes were closed as he attempted to fall asleep on the bathroom floor.  She turned and headed out the door. “Hang on a minute, I’ll be right back.”

He whimpered in the attempts to choke back a cry of pain. Tears were streaming down his face again, and Peter was positive he had reach the epitome of pathetic. Not that he cared right now—no, he was in far too much pain to care. The dull ache had started in the pit of his stomach until it had turned into a clenching agony. His chest was growing tighter now, to the point where it was almost impossible to take in a full breath.

Scratch that, it was impossible.

His vision began to tunnel as he frantically tried to take in a complete gulp of air. Releasing his grip around his abdomen, and rolled onto his stomach and tried to push himself upward. Every breath brought in less and less oxygen, and with each gasp the process grew more painful. He felt his stomach trying to heave up anything left in it, and he only managed to gag on it as he desperately tried to take a breath.

It was blocking his throat. He was gagging and choking and puking all at the same time. Was this how he was going to die? Choking on his own vomit? How entirely unheroic.

His chest was painfully heaving up and down but getting no air. His head felt like it was going to explode, his lungs burned, chest ached. A strange buzz began to fill his ears—a sound he’d never heard before. Was he under water? What was that…that noise? Mumbles and murmurs and…talking? Was someone talking?

Everything was fuzzy and blurry. The bathroom lights were so bright it hurt his already sensitive eyes. They were pulsing, slower and slower…matching up with his heartbeat. He could feel his heartbeat all over. His legs and arms were numb and tingly.

He felt his head loll to one side…was he moving? Now he was on his knees…but he wasn’t moving…was someone else there? What was happening?

He was suddenly socked in the stomach, again and again. It hurt, but Peter could hardly tell what was happening. He was tired, so tired, and it hurt…he was throwing up and that hurt too.

And then his brain didn’t tell his lungs what to do but they did it anyway.

He took a breath.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Would you believe that the hardest part of writing this chapter was coming up with a name for it? (And now that I finally did I hate it... *sigh*) Meh well here's a chapter and I know I promised fluff but I just keep dragging everything out so....no fluff yet. BUT IT IS COMING!
> 
> Also, it took me quite literally three hours to find a drug that I could use. I even googled "I'm a writer and I need to know what drugs people spike drinks with and what their side effects are." Not even kidding.
> 
> Welp, tell me what you think of this badly titled chapter in the comments!
> 
> ~Spinofflady


	18. A Spoonful of Honey

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *Yet another vomit warning*

Apparently the Parker’s didn’t have one single container of honey in their entire apartment. Amanda opened the last of the cupboards, and once again had no success. She could have sworn that she remembered seeing a bottle of honey somewhere around here…

Then she remembered. It was in May’s vanity, probably for some face or hair treatment. She now remembered herself thinking about how odd it was for someone to store honey along with their makeup, but honestly, she couldn’t care less at this point.

She walked back into her bedroom, May’s former room. Vader was sitting impatiently behind the door. Habit took over, and Amanda didn’t think twice about letting him out.

She dug through the draws, trying to remember which one contained the honey. Vader was now barking in the hallway, probably at Peter from inside the bathroom. “Shut up, Vader!” she yelled at him. He kept barking.

“Hush!”

Vader did not hush.

It stuck Amanda as strange that he didn’t, because it was an enormously rare chance that the highly trained dog did not obey. That dog _really_ must hate Peter.

But come to think of it, these barks were different. They weren’t his usual snarling, vicious, type. They were short, consistent, evenly timed barks, never changing in pitch.

Eh, whatever. As long as the dog wasn’t killing anyone, she really didn’t care what he barked about. She continued digging through the drawers until she finally found the honey container, shaped like a small bear.

Vader was still barking, and slowly growing annoyed, Amanda grabbed the bottle and walked into the hallway. Vader was at the end of the hall, halfway through the bathroom door, laying on all fours. He was barking at Peter, but not at all aggressively.

Amanda came closer. Peter was rolled on his stomach, attempting to push himself up on his elbows, chest and stomach heaving. Nothing seemed out of the ordinary until he turned enough for her to see his face and holy crap it was turning purple.

He was choking.

Crap, crap, crap, crap, crap he was _choking._

 And just when she needed it not to, her brain slowed down to about four neurons firing per hour. She took a CPR class, she knew what to do. Why couldn’t she remember it?

He mind screamed at her to do something, but she didn’t even fully register what was happening until Peter collapsed on the floor, motionless. Vader immediately sprang forward, nosing him and pawing at him and barking.

He brain finally caught up with the situation, and she suddenly knew what to do. “Vader, fetch my phone!” The dog ran out of the bathroom, still barking. Amanda grabbed Peter under his arms, pulling him back toward herself and up on his knees. He was completely limp as she balanced him across her front. She reached around him, trying to recall the steps of the procedure. _Fist above the belly button, yank up and under the ribcage._

Over and over she yanked her fist into his stomach until finally he started to heave. Tempted to stop, she repeated it again, and Peter heaved up a mouthful of…nastiness. It was different this time, all clotted and streaked with blood. He choked up more and more until he finally sucked in huge gulp of air, falling back on her completely.

Both sat there, Amanda stunned and Peter still only half conscious and desperately trying to catch up on his loss of oxygen.

Vader finally raced over with Amanda’s cell phone in his mouth, dropped in next to her and sat down, eyeing Peter curiously. He was finally catching his breath, and then…started to cry. Short, quiet, gasping sobs of terror, his eyes wide.

“Hey! Whoa, whoa, whoa! What’s the matter?” Amanda shifted around to face him.

He slowly dragged his eyes to focus on her. “I…I thought I was gonna die.”

Amanda let a small breath escape her. “But you didn’t, thank God.”

“I almost died.”

“You _didn’t._ Come on, say it. ‘I didn’t die.’”

“I didn’t die,” he repeated slowly, allowing her to sit him up. “I am still alive, right?”

“Yeah, of course.” She let him lean against the side of the sink while she did her best to gather up the soiled bathroom rug.

“Are you sure?”

She turned with confused glance. “Positive.”

“Then why isn’t Vader trying to eat me?”

Amanda glanced to the dog, who was still patiently sitting in the doorway with her phone at his paws. His dark eyes were intelligent as ever, watching her every move, his ears high and erect. “He probably just saved your life. I wouldn’t have come back in here for a few more minutes if not for his barking.”

Still breathing heavily, Peter turned to stare at the dog. “I guess I owe you one,” he told the dog softly. Vader sneezed in reply and walked out. Amanda continued cleaning up, or at least attempting too, leaving an unbroken silence for quite some time.

“I think almost dying did the trick,” Peter finally spoke up. “I feel a lot better now.”

“You should publish a book on the benefits of choking,” Amanda replied, placing the soiled carpet in a tubful of water to soak.

Peter cracked a tired smile. “I think I’m gonna go lay on the couch,” he told her softly, struggling to rise.

“This goes with you.” Amanda passed him the plastic basin that was propped up against the tub. “No excuses.”

He took it from her wordlessly and left the bathroom. She sighed at the mess. If she hadn’t had little brothers to deal with, she probably wouldn’t even know where to begin. After several minutes of cleaning the floors and repeatedly spraying the air with Lysol, she was finally beginning to see (and smell) and improvement.

“Mandy!” Came the strained call from the living room. “Help!”

Her heart skipped a beat and she dropped her supplies and ran to the room, expecting to find Peter collapsed on the ground again.

Instead, she found him stretched across the couch, Vader sprawled out on top of him.

“He won’t get off,” Peter whispered, his eyes wide with fear. “He just jumped up and now he won’t move.”

Amanda couldn’t help it. She burst into laughter, so much so that tears started rolling down her cheeks. “Maybe he just likes you!” She managed after several minutes of laughing.

“But I don’t like him,” Peter whispered, almost as if he didn’t want the dog to hear. “And I definitely don’t like being trapped under him. Come on, Mandy, make him get off. I want to sleep.”

Sleep! With all the choking and throwing up everywhere, Amanda had forgotten what started it all. “The honey! Wait right here!” She turned and ran off, Peter urgently begging her not to leave him alone with the dog.

She grabbed the honey from where she’d dropped it outside the bathroom, switched off the lights and headed for the kitchen. She grabbed a spoon, filled it with the honey and took a whiff just to make sure it was still good.

It smelled fine, so she brought the spoonful of honey back in to Peter. She held it out, expecting him to willingly take it. He didn’t.

“What is it?” He asked skeptically. He had every right, as she had just fed him Hydrogen Peroxide for the sole purpose of making him barf.

“Honey. It’ll help you sleep.”

“I don’t want to sleep.”

“You just said you did.”

“Not with a demon dog on top of me! He’ll tear my throat out!”

“Okay, one: I happen to love that ‘demon dog,’ and two: he won’t rip your throat out. I’ll sit right here and make sure of it myself.”

“Promise?”

“Oh my gosh, yes. Just eat the honey.”

“It won’t make me sick?”

“ _Put it in your mouth._ ” Whether it was from exhaustion or annoyance or something else, Amanda glared at him as she ordered him to eat the stupid honey.

Reluctantly, he wrapped his mouth around the spoon and licked the honey off in one bite. He swallowed it, and as if one cue, he yawned immediately. For several minutes, he fought to stay awake.

“Promise you’ll… _yawn_ …keep him from eating… _yawn_ …me?”

“Yes.” Amanda yawned in response. “How about if I sit here?” She situated herself on the remaining space on the couch beside him.

“I still don’t…think it’s gonna…be safe…”

“He won’t eat you.” In fact, Vader was now fast asleep on top of Peter.

“Mandy?”

“Mm.”

“Thanks… _yawn…_ for taking care of me. I was pretty gross.”

“You were exceptionally gross. But you’re welcome.”

There was no response; Peter was out like a light. Amanda finally allowed herself to dose off, and only stirred when Peter sleepily wiggled up just enough to rest his head on her lap.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> One quick thing I feel I should say: If someone is choking and they pass out, do not continue abdominal thrusts. Start CPR as soon as they go unconscious. (If you know how.) Also, the hydrogen peroxide thing isn't really the best way to make anyone vomit so long story short DON'T USE ANY OF MY BAD EXAMPLES IN THIS STORY. Thank you.
> 
> But yeah here you go here's some fluff just like I promised... I know it's not much. Best I could do. For now...
> 
> Let me know what you thought!
> 
> ~Spinofflady


	19. The Laughing Bet

                Morning light streamed through the apartment window. Amanda began to stir at the sound of her cell phone ringing, which was somewhere in the other room. Confused, she glanced around, finding Peter’s head in her lap, and Vader stretched out on top of him. The events of the previous night came flooding back.

She nudged the dog, and he lifted his head, clearly annoyed.

“Fetch my phone,” she whispered, trying to make sure Peter stayed asleep for as long as possible.

Vader slowly climbed off of Peter, and padded down the hall, returning with her phone in his mouth. She scratched his head as a thanks and glanced at the caller ID. _Tony Stark._ She rolled her eyes. If he was hungover, she _would_ quit on the spot.

“Hello?” she answered softly, still trying not to disturb Peter.

“Amanda? It’s Pepper.” The feminine voice came with a slight hint of uncertainty. “How’s Peter?”

Thank _God._ Amanda couldn’t have dealt with one more of Tony’s drunk comedy routines. “Asleep. Other than that I don’t know. Someone spiked his drink last night.”

Pepper let out a sigh. “Tony said he got drunk at a party. I was worried he’d gotten into trouble.”

“I was worried I would have to take him to the hospital. Last night wasn’t pretty, and I’m pretty sure my car is going to smell like vomit.”

“I’ll send someone to clean it,” Pepper offered, “but I have to go. Tony _did_ get drunk last night, so I’m stuck with hangover duty today.”

“Good luck,” Amanda shook her head.

“We’ll talk later,” came Pepper’s reply as she clicked off the phone. Amanda set the phone down on the end table.

“Who was that?” Peter asked, apparently having woken up during the call. He gingerly pushed himself up right, rubbing the right side of his face, which was flaming red from having been slept on all night.

“Pepper,” Amanda replied. “She wanted to ask how you were doing. How are you doing, exactly?”

Blinking sleepily, Peter thought for a moment. “Good, I guess. My abs are kinda sore. Puking is a good work out.”

Amanda rolled her eyes as she stood up stretching. “Hey,” she said suddenly, glancing out the window. “It snowed last night.”

Peter turned to look in the same direction. “I wondered if school cancelled.” He suddenly whirled around to face her. “Mandy! I’m late for school!” He jumped off the couch.

“Sit down,” Amanda blocked him from running off to his room. “There is no possible way I’m allowing you to go to school. You technically aren’t even supposed to go anywhere until twelve hours after vomiting so park your butt on the couch and don’t even _think_ about going to school.”

“But I have a paper to turn in,” Peter stared at her… pleadingly. There was something seriously wrong with anyone who _pleaded_ to go to school.

“I will take care of that,” Amanda replied. I have to run some errands anyway. “Get me your school stuff. I’m heading out as soon as my car gets cleaned.”

“Cleaned? Please don’t tell me I puked in your car.”

Amanda snorted, a most unladylike sound. “You puked in my car, on my shoe, in the hallway, all _over_ the bathroom…we might as well just fumigate the whole apartment.”

Peter looked rather disgusted with himself. “I…uh. Sorry.”

“Don’t be. I shouldn’t have let you go in the first place.”

“I was the one who asked.”

“Doesn’t matter, I said yes.”

“I begged you.”

“Peter, we’ve been over this. Not everything is your fault.”

“Yeah, but-”

“Peter.”

“This wasn’t your decision.”

“Peter.”

“I made you-”

“Oh for the love of…you couldn’t _make_ me do anything!”

Peter sat quietly for a moment. “I could make you laugh.”

“Wanna bet?”

“Sure! If I win, can I go patrolling?”

“Go put a shirt on.”

With a sheepish glance down at his bare chest, Peter headed for his room. Amanda shook her head and walked into her own room, pulling back the closet door. Today she had to dress the part, because an interrogation might end up being involved with her visit to Peter’s school. A leather jacket, a high necked fitting shirt, tall black boots with heels—she felt like she was an agent again, and she didn’t like how good it felt.

She let her hair out of its sloppy bun and wet her curls down, scrunching them with some gel until they reached the perfect amount of volume. She spent a good twenty minutes working on her make-up until she was satisfied with her dark eye liner. There was an art to looking terrifying, and she’d been taught every bit of it. Finally happy with her look, she made her way back to the kitchen for some breakfast before she left.

Peter was on the couch, wearing the biggest “I survived my trip to NY” shirt she had seen over the top of his spandex suit. His mask was rolled up over his mouth to enable him to slurp up the bowl of cold cereal he was eating.

“What are you wearing?” she laughed, never having seen such an odd combination in her life.

He gulped down the rest of the cereal before jumping up and shouting, “I told you I could make you laugh!”

Amanda blinked stupidly. “What?”

“I bet you that I could make you laugh! And I did! So now I can go patrolling!” He started pulling the humongous t-shirt off.

“Um, no, that was never arranged.”

“Yes it was. We bet on it.”

“ _You_ bet on it.”

“Please, Mandy? I ate breakfast, and I feel fine! Queens _needs_ me.”

Amanda didn’t have to see his face to know that his eyes were big and puppy like. She folded her arms and stared at him. “And why, exactly, should I believe you after what happened last night?”

“Uh…cause I’m never going to another party again? I feel perfect, really.”

She didn’t want to say yes, but she had to admit, with the fresh snow and ice on the roads, Peter would be able to prevent plenty of accidents. “Fine,” she huffed, shaking her head at her own decision. “You have three hours.”

“Yes!” He pumped his fist in the air and yanked his mask down. “Thank you!”

“If you feel sick, you call me _immediately.”_

“I know!”

“I’m hacking Karen, by the way!”

“Okay!” He was already out the window.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yeah, I know. Filler. Sorry. Best I could do. Next chapter will be better. (Actually, for anyone who's been waiting for more info on Amanda, you're going to love it)


	20. Agent Harding

As soon as Amanda was given the “all clear” on her car, she clipped a leash on Vader’s leather collar and the two left for Peter’s school. By now the students were probably having lunch, which would give her a chance to speak with the teachers. Following the GPS on her phone, she finally pulled up in front of the school.

Vader was completely down to business. The German Shepherd hadn’t been on a “mission” in almost a year and a half, and he’d apparently missed it. She grabbed his leash and together they walked up to the entrance.

Having scoped out the area before hand, she made her way to the principal’s office. The few students in the hallways, were quick to leave her path as soon as they heard the clacking of her boots on the tile.

She knocked soundly on the glass door, and a man’s voice from behind it told her to come in. She opened the door and stepped inside. The man was sitting behind a desk, and he immediately set his gaze on the massive dog watching him.

“Amanda Harding,” she introduced herself, stretching out her hand. “I’m here to talk about one of your students, Peter Parker.”

“I’m afraid we can’t give out any information.”

“I work for the FBI,” she flicked the fake badge she’d pinned to her jacket. “I already know everything. I’m here to give _you_ information.” She pulled out a chair and parked herself in it, Vader lying at her feet.

“I see,” the man said uncomfortably. “And what might that be?”

“Peter Parker is under my legal protection for the next five months. Last night he went to a party with some of the other students who drugged him with Rohypnol, I assume as a prank. That prank nearly sent him to the hospital. I would like to speak to the students I believe are involved.”

“I’m not sure if that can be-”

“Or I can come back another time with my lawyers,” Amanda added swiftly, hinting at the fact that she was perfectly willing to sue.

“That won’t be necessary,” the principal replied quickly. “What are their names?”

She handed him the list, and fifteen minutes later the group was gathered in a small conference room. The group of teens were warily eyeing the dog at Amanda’s feet as they talked.

“May I have your attention please?” Amanda began as the last student arrived.

No one responded.

“Okay,” she muttered, irked by their lack of respect. “Vader?”

With a flick over her hand, the dog jumped up with a snarl and a bark, immediately bringing all eyes on Amanda and Vader.

“Much better,” she smiled in a less than friendly way. “I am Agent Harding.” Saying the words almost tripped her up, but she managed to keep going. “I work in the drug department of the FBI, and it has come to my attention that one or more of you spiked another student’s drink at a party last night. Would the guilty party please make themselves known at this time?”

No one said a word. Flash Thompson slowly raised his hand.

“I’m pretty sure there’s a no weapon policy at this school, and I’m also pretty sure that dog is a weapon.” He looked up at her, disrespect in his tone.

“He’s not a weapon until you’ve ticked him off,” Amanda shot back, silencing him with one glare. “No one? Fine. We can play this way. Vader, go search.”

Vader began roaming the room, sniffing each student up and down as he searched for the scent of any drugs. He finally stopped at Flash and barked, causing the teen to flinch. After sniffing everyone else, he returned to Flash and barked again.

“Well then,” Amanda smiled, “everyone but Flash is free to go.”

The other student more than happily left the room, all but trampling each other as they filed out the door. Flash’s gaze darted back and forth between Amanda and Vader, clasping his hands nervously in his lap. Amanda walked over, placed her hands on the table that separated them, and leaned forward.

“Hand it over,” she commanded simply.

Flash immediately dug a small Ziploc bag of tablets from his jacket pocket and dropped it on the table, his wide eyes breaking their stare.

“Where did you get this?” she went on, her voice softening.

“This guy gave it to me,” Flash whispered, his eyes briefly darting in the direction of the door.

“What guy?”

“I dunno. His name was Dan…or something.”

Amanda sucked in a breath. “So this Dan offered you drugs and you took them?”

Flash nodded slowly.

“Do you have any idea how dangerous and…I don’t know…” Amanda slammed her hands down on the desk “ _illegal_ that is?!”

Flash jumped at her outburst. “Yes, ma’am.”

She’d successfully gotten a “ma’am” out of him—one of the milestones of a proper interrogation. This was going better than expected.

“And not only do you take drugs from someone, who I assume was a total stranger, but you decide to put them in someone else’s drink! Did you even know what would happen?!”

“The guy said it would make him pass out. Just as a joke, y’know?”

Amanda leaned in so close that Flash actually flinched. “A joke?”

“Yeah. I didn’t mean to hurt him.”

“Well, you did.”

Flash looked up, looking genuinely concerned—probably for his own welfare if Peter was hurt. “He nearly went to the HOSPITAL because he was choking on his own VOMIT!! Still think it’s a joke!?” Amanda shouted. “This drug can KILL people!”

Flash was actually trembling now. “I didn’t know.”

“Well,” Amanda said, straightening her jacket and smoothing her hair. “Now you do.” With a snap of her fingers, Vader was following her to the door.

“By the way,” she called over her shoulder, “I _am_ reporting you for this.”

* * *

As she drove home, Amanda had one name on her mind—Dan. Who was this Dan, and why in the world was he giving drugs to teenagers? Her only thought was that it was so they’d get hooked and be his buyers later. But still, the whole situation didn’t add up. Or maybe it did, and she was just convincing herself that it didn’t.

People always used to tell her she did that a lot.

She finally pulled up in front of the apartment building after missing her turn three times in a row, and headed inside. She hadn’t expected Peter to be back, so she was startled when she opened the door and found him inside.

“It was really cold, and I’m a lot more tired than I thought I was,” he explained from his place on the couch. “I didn’t even make it halfway around the block before I was exhausted. I’m gonna go back out later, if that’s okay with you.”

She shrugged. “Just don’t kill yourself, that’s my only concern. You want lunch?”

“No thanks,” he replied. “I’m a little queasy.”

Amanda turned with a hand on her hip. “What happened to ‘I’m _perfect,_ Mandy, really.’”

He gave a sheepish smile. “Well, I did chug a whole bowl of cereal.”

“And that was a brilliant decision, wasn’t it?”

Peter slowly shook his head.

Amanda rolled her eyes and shook her head, fighting to keep a smile off her face. He was so naive it was adorable. Vader had hopped up on the couch next to him, and Peter was tactfully trying to shoo him away. 

“Leave my dog alone, Parker!” she yelled with a chuckle as she headed into room. “He’s trying to be friendly!”

She pulled off her boots and leather jacket, tied her hair up in a bun, and whipped open her laptop.

It was time for a little research, specifically about drug dealing guys named Dan.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> New chapter yay! Took me long enough... At least Flash got in trouble!
> 
> Also, a special thanks goes out to MCUSpiderManHomecoming for the the most adorable drawing of Vader!
> 
> ~Spinofflady


	21. Picking Some People

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *vomit warning*

Amanda spent the day hacking into the files of all the local authorities, and it took her a good three hours before she even managed to get everything to load on the Parker’s interminably slow wireless. At about 5:30, Peter peeked in and told her that he was going out again, Amanda let him go, turning on the tracker from her phone.

She finally found a few guys named Dan, but none of them had anything to do with drug dealing. She copied their files anyway. She stopped briefly to get some dinner, and got straight back to work.

At long last, she found what she was looking for. Dan Schumock, imprisoned for six years due to using and selling at least three different narcotics. She stared at his picture for a long time. He didn’t even look like a criminal. More like a disheveled, completely average, boring white college student. How underwhelming.

Amanda glanced at her phone, checking to see where Peter was. The location marker was hovering over a little side street, so she turned back to her work. This Dan guy had almost gone back to prison for working with Mac Gargan, who dwelt heavily in the black market.

Gargan, Gargan…why did that ring a bell?

She’d heard it before. Just seeing it gave her the worst Déjà vu she’d ever experienced. Where was that name from? It wasn’t a good name, she knew that for sure. It seemed to awaken some far off, nearly extinct memory made years before.

Determined to find out why is was so familiar, she searched Mac Gargan in the list of records. He was currently in jail, so she opened up his files and began reading through his long list of crimes. Illegal weapons dealing, charged with assault, attempted murder, suspected killer of…

She stopped, her breath halting halfway down her throat.

_Alexander Harding._

The memory came flooding back—the court, her mother crying, the man in the brown shirt reading his name: Mac Gargan. Her little brothers were squirming, the lawyers were yelling…and Mac went free.

Gargan went free because he had an alibi.

His alibi was Dan Schumock.

That was so long ago. The court never did decide who really killed Alexander Harding, and she had been far too young to remember more than mere images of it. But she did remember Gargan. She remembered he was ugly and sneered, and that he reminded her of the little red devil that was pictured on the back of her grandfather’s old Biker vest.

She remembered hating him.

But there was nothing she could do about that now. That was eleven years ago, and there was no proof that anyone had done anything. It was 9:30 by now, and so she silently shut her computer and headed to the kitchen for a glass of water. The tenants above them must be having a party, because the ceiling shook to the beat of obnoxiously loud music.

She rolled her eyes, smirking as she caught sights of Vader peering around the corner at her. “What?” she teased, making him crouch down playfully. She took one step in his direction, and he took off running down the hall.

He needed some exercise. In Port Leyden, she took him hiking at least every other day. But here, there was only crowded dog parks, and unless she wanted someone trying to sue her for Vader eating their dog, they weren’t an option. She’d tried taking him for a run, but the sidewalks were crowded and he growled at anyone who even looked at her.

That dog had been with her for the past six years, and so far he hadn’t started slowing down a bit. Most dogs started to mellow out at six, but not Vader. He was still as ready for action as ever. He had loved being a working dog. He was the only German Shepherd on the team, but he had been by far the best dog. He and Amanda had been the first ones to any crime scene, disaster site, or mission.

She could tell he missed his job. The moment he heard a siren he would rush to the door and bring Amanda her shoes. She’d taught him that while they were still in training together. The tile floors of her dormitory room at S.H.I.E.L.D. were always cold, so she would make Vader bring her a pair of shoes before getting out of bed.

That was the one thing Vader had never done for anyone else. The dog trainers couldn’t coax, threaten, or even beat him into doing it. (Not that they actually beat him, of course.) It was like his special way of showing his loyalty and love for Amanda.

After New York, she and Vader had left, disappeared, and no one ever heard from them again. For a solid year, that dog had been her one and only friend. And he was the best friend she ever could have asked for.

She was suddenly drawn out of her thoughts by how cold it was in the apartment, and she made her way to the living room to adjust the heat. She entered the room, the paused.

The window was wide open, and Peter sat at the base of it, hugging his knees. He was still in Spider-Man garb, minus the mask, and he genuinely looked as if he’d seen a ghost.

Curious, she walked over, shut the window, and sat down next to him. “What’s the matter with you?” she started, drawing her knees up in a mimicking position.

Peter was quiet for a long time, but finally replied with soft and shaky words. “I killed him.” His gaze never left its blank stare straight ahead, his lips pressed into an expressionless line.

The response took Amanda by complete surprise, and she only managed to whisper back, “Who?”

“I don’t even know,” he shook his head slowly. “He’s dead.”

“What…happened?” she went on, still just as shocked.

Peter shrugged. “He was mugging this lady. I grabbed him and the lady ran away. We got into a fight and when I hit his head against the wall, I guess it killed him.”

The whole situation was so surreal, Amanda couldn’t even find words to respond with.

“Killing isn’t like it is in movies,” Peter went on, even softer than before. “It’s a lot more bloody.”

Somehow, all of the Psychology she’d been packing into her brain seemed to make sense, and she realized what was happening. “Peter, tell me what happened.”

“I told you.” He still stared straight ahead, his arms wrapped tightly around his knees.

“Then tell me again,” she instructed firmly, grabbing his chin to force eye contact. His gaze was already glossed over, and his bloodshot eyes were brimmed with un-fallen tears.  He pulled his chin out of her grasp and went back to staring straight ahead. She tried once more. “Peter, _tell me_.” This time on his own, he briefly glanced over at her.

And then he burst into the most, painful, gut wrenching, agonized sobs Amanda had ever heard in her entire life. He couldn’t have told her any clearer. She gently placed an arm over his back and pulled him closer.

“I killed him, Mandy,” he sobbed into her shoulder. “I hit his head on the wall and he fell and there was blood and brains all over the sidewalk and he wouldn’t quit squirming and then he just stopped and that’s when I knew he was dead…I _killed_ him! With my own two hands!”

He shouldn’t have seen death like this. He was too young. She’d killed her first victim when she was thirteen, but she had been slowly desensitized for three years. Peter probably couldn’t even watch a seriously gory movie without turning his head.

“His head was all cracked open and I could see…” he trailed off, beginning to shake uncontrollably. She hugged him tighter. “You know all that stuff you see in dissections and anatomy books? It was like that, but none of it was in the right place and there was so much blood. There was blood everywhere. And one of his eyes…one of his eyes just fell right out of his head will he was still moving and there were little bits of…bone that just broke off and…” Peter suddenly pushed away from her and crawled half a step to the right as he gagged over the food in his stomach. He heaved it up on the floor, sobbing and retching and all but screaming at the same time.

“I killed him. Mandy, I killed him. He’s dead.” Peter wiped a hand over his mouth as he crawled back to her, excepting the hug she offered. He cried for forty-five minutes, clinging to her shirt as if it were the only thing between him and utter despair.

“I’m a murderer,” he whispered, sobs finally changing to quiet sniffles.

“Don’t you even _dare_ go there,” Amanda rebuked him sternly. “There isn’t a murderous bone in your body.”

“But I-”

“Killed someone while trying to help another. That’s not murder. That’s an accident. It wasn’t pre-thought, or pre-planned, and you had no motive. You were defending someone.”

“You didn’t see-”

“Peter, I’ve seen. I’ve seen thing far worse than somebody’s brains spattered across a sidewalk. I had to identify my own father’s body after somebody shot him six times in the head and throat because he happened to be a cop on the wrong side of town. I watched my mother drink herself to death because of it, and leave me and my brothers to fend for ourselves.

“I worked for S.H.I.E.L.D., doing whatever they told me to do, and if that was to torture some innocent child from Iraq to find out where their parents kept weapons, I would do it. I’ve run over people with cars and blown them to shreds with machine guns. _I’m_ a murderer.”

Peter stared at her with puffy red eyes, a faint glint of horror running through them. “You did all that stuff?”

“Yeah,” she nodded and dropped her blue-eyed gaze a little. “I did. But I never did it for no reason. For every life I took, I know I saved hundreds more. Peter, sometimes some people have to die, and sometimes we had to pick who those people are. Is it easy? No. That’s why you can’t think about it too much.”

“My uncle was killed by a mugger,” Peter whispered, tearing up again. “And I could have stopped him. But I didn’t. I thought it wasn’t my responsibility.”

Amanda sat up in order to face him better. “Peter, you and I have the job of protecting other people, and the best way to protect is to prevent. There are so, _so_ many things that will haunt you for the rest of your life but you have no choice but to do them. But if we keep doing our job right, maybe someday some people won’t have to die.”

Peter sniffled and nodded, wiping his eyes on his sleeve.

“Go take a shower,” Amanda told him quietly, “they’re good for numbing reality. Nice and hot.”

He nodded and left, and Amanda set to work cleaning the floor.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I've been waiting to write this chapter for SOOOOO long! I know it probably wasn't expected, but personally, I feel like people don't pay enough attention to the fact that Peter is a kid, and one of the most tender-hearted kids at that. He's not going to like hurting people, much less killing them. So yeah, there's my little boring authors note that you technically didn't even need to read. 
> 
> Well, tell me what you thought of this chapter in the comments!
> 
> ~Spinofflady


	22. Therapy for Nightmares

Amanda cleaned up the floor and grabbed Peter’s mask, which was strewn haphazardly on the ground below the window. She gently picked it up, he breath catching momentarily as she noticed a blood stain across it, still wet.

She knew he hadn’t told her everything. She knew he probably never would. She just hoped it didn’t hurt him.

It was passed ten now, and snow had started to fall once again. She made her way to the kitchen sink and rinsed off the mask, and the stain could hardly be seen. There was probably more on the rest of the suit, but at this point, that was the least of her concerns.

The tenants above them were still partying, and she almost felt a bit resentful, wishing she could make them show some respect for everyone else in the building.

She made her way past the bathroom to put the mask in Peter’s room, and heard him sobbing in the shower. Good for him. Crying in the shower was one of the most therapeutic things she knew of.

Vader stood in the hallway, watching the door with his head cocked. Amanda gave a small smile. “He’ll be okay, boy. Come on.”

The dog followed her back to her room where she sat on the bed, Vader’s head in her lap.

He mind was whirling, but it continually settled on a face, one she didn’t even know she remembered. It was the face of the first man she’d ever killed, some evil criminal that had been given the death sentence.

She hadn’t known his name, where he was from, or even what he’d done. All she knew was that she was supposed to kill him. So she picked up the handgun, held it to his balding head, and fired. It wasn’t hard, really. After all, she’d done the same thing to sick and dying animals everyday for the past six months. She choked rats and mice to death with a piece of twine around their neck.

They would squeal and cry and wave their tiny, innocent paws. This man was nothing compared to that. Those animals had never down anything wrong. They couldn’t understand what was happening. In her eyes, people we just big, cruel sacks of blood and guts who were out to hurt other people. It wasn’t hard to kill them.

And then there was Peter. People had done nothing _but_ wrong to him, and yet, he became sick from killing someone as an accident. How did he do it? What intrinsic motivation did he have that drove him to care so much about other people?

She realized that the shower had stopped, so she softly went down the hall to peek into his room. Peter was already curled up in bed, his hair drenching his pillow. She switched off his light, shut his door, and headed to bed herself.

Her phone buzzed on the nightstand beside her bed, and she grabbed it as she climbed under the covers. As she hit the power button, she read the notification that spread across the screen. It was a message from Tony Stark.

_Has the kid quit throwing up yet?_

Amanda bit the inside of her lip. That was it? That was the amount of concern that Tony had for Peter being drugged and nearly choking on his own vomit? Of all the self-centered, un-thoughtful, egotistical, narcissistic… how _dare_ he act like he cared about Peter and then say something that insensitive.

She cleared the message and put the phone down, knowing that if she were to respond she would probably end up being fired. But come to think of it, would that be so bad? She certainly wouldn’t mind having a different boss.

Would she go back to the coffee shop? Or somewhere else? Actually, with the money she was making from this job she didn’t have to get a new one. Maybe she could just finish college and get some experience out in the field. Finally, she could leave everything behind.

Amanda drifted off to sleep, dreaming of the life that was to come.

She was awakened a few hours later by her dog, who was relentlessly pawing at her through the blankets. No amount of pushing him away would make him stop. She finally sat up sleepily. “Alright, I’m up. What do you want?”

Vader hopped off the bed and ran out the door, circling back as though he wanted her to follow. Curious, she climbed out of bed and followed the excited dog who lead her straight to Peter’s shut door. The dog pawed at it and looked up at her expectantly.

She opened the door slowly, scanning the room for any possible intruder. The appeared to be none, and Peter was still asleep in bed.

He suddenly let out a cry, of pain or fear she couldn’t tell which, and began clumsily clawing at the blankets that covered him. He was sleep talking now, and the jumbled words sounded remarkably like “help.”She approached him softly and began to shake him awake.

“Peter, come on. Wake up.”

After shuddering away from her momentarily, his eyes shot open as he gasped. Panting for breath, he glanced around at the room before finally settling his gaze on her.

“You okay?” She asked as he began to calm.

He nodded slowly. “Sorry for waking you up.”

“Vader woke me up,” she informed on her way out the door. She knew that she should probably ask the nature of his distress, but at this point they were both so tired it would get nowhere, so she simply plodded back to bed. Fifteen minutes later, she was almost asleep when a voice came from the end of her bed.

“Mandy?” It was quiet and timid, almost pleading.

She rolled over to find Peter standing there, clutching at the blanket that was bundled up in his arms.

“What?” she blinked tiredly.

“I can’t sleep.”

“So? You’re a big kid. Go read a book or something.”

Peter stared at the floor. “No…it’s not like that.”

Amanda fought the urge to roll her tired eyes. “Then what is it like?”

“I, uh…sorry. I shouldn’t have woke you up; it’s stupid.”

“Peter, we go through this routine every time. Can we please just skip to the part where you tell me what’s wrong and we do something about it?”

He swallowed thickly before whispering: “I’m scared.”

She quirked an eyebrow. “Of?”

“A nightmare.”

Amanda looked up at him, trying to come up with a way to handle the situation. He looked like a four year old the way he stood waiting for her to say something with his hands grasping relentlessly at the blanket, shoulders stooped and eyes finding their way to anywhere but hers.

“Do you want to sleep in here?” She asked finally.

He looked up in surprise, but his relief was clear. “Can I?”

She shrugged. “Just stay on top of the covers.”

He shuffled over to the opposite side of the queen bed and curled up in a ball. Vader had been stretched out on the floor, but the minute Peter lay down on the bed, he jumped up to sit between the two of them, watching the teen warily.

“Thanks, Mandy. I didn’t want to be by myself.” Peter mumbled, beginning to shiver.

“You know, if you covered up with that blanket you’re holding, you wouldn’t be so cold,” she commented, curling up beneath her own blankets.

“I don’t want to.”

Every fiber of her body wanted to end the conversation with a “suit yourself” but she knew by now that Peter didn’t do stupid things for no reason. “Why?” she prodded instead.

“It’s too heavy.”

“Peter, that’s the lightest blanket you have.”

“I know,” he rolled over, earning a look from Vader, his eyes growing tearful. He brushed them away quickly. “It just feels to heavy when I’m under it.”

“And you’d rather be cold?”

“No…I just…I don’t like feeling trapped.”

And there it was. The root cause that she was looking for. “How come?”

“Cause I get scared of…” he glanced down again. “It’s so stupid.”

“There is no such thing as a stupid fear,” she told him quickly. “Irrational, yes. Not stupid.”

He finally dragged his gaze up to meet hers. “Did Mr. Stark tell you about the Vulture?”

Amanda shrugged. “A bit. It was all over the news, though.”

“Did he tell you about the parking garage?”

She shook her head.

Peter drew in a deep breath as though to steady himself. “I met up with the Vulture in an empty parking garage,” he began, his voice wavering. “He knocked all the pillars down and the roof caved in on top of me. Then he left and I was stuck and I was all alone…” He paused to brush more tears out of his eyes. “And I know it’s stupid, but sometimes I dream about it and I feel like the sheets are made of cement and I just hate being under them and-”He trailed off, obviously ashamed that he was crying.

“You don’t like being alone, either,” Amanda finished for him, reaching over to the night stand for a tissue.

He shook his head miserably. “I know it’s stupid-”

“What did we say about it being stupid?” she cut him off sternly. “It is not stupid. It’s not even irrational. You have a perfect right to be scared.”

“I don’t have a perfect right to cry over it, though.”

Did he really believe that? Good grief, he needed so much therapy. “Peter, if you feel like crying, you cry all you want. Understand?”

He nodded.  “Right now I just want to sleep, but I’m cold.”

Amanda sat up, and pulled the blanket out of his grasp. “You have two options. One, you can go back to your room and be cold, or you can stay here and cover up. Your choice, but you’re facing a fear tonight—feeling trapped or being alone.”

He considered the two options for several minutes. “I think I’d rather feel trapped.”

Wordlessly, Amanda covered him with the checkered blanket and lay down again.

“Is this your idea of therapy?” he asked, his voice anxious.

“Yes, it is. Now, have you ever heard the story of the guy in Kansas who had 1,134 cats?”

“No…”

“Good. Cause I was going to tell you even if you had.” And tell him the story she did. She went on and on, making up random details as she went, until finally she glanced over to find that Peter was fast asleep under the blanket.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yes, I am aware that it took me forever to update. I don't even have a good excuse. School has just been killer this week. BUT here is a chapter and I hope it somewhat justifies the wait.
> 
> I don't know about anyone else, but I always thought that the parking garage scene needed to be touched on again. No one, not even Spider-Man, gets trapped under three tons of fallen cement and doesn't have issue with claustrophobia afterwards. (There's also the fact that his ribcage probably would have been squashed but I'll let them play the Spider-Man card for that.)
> 
> WELP, there's my little explanation of the chapter. Let me know what you think in the comments!
> 
> ~Spinofflady


	23. Cover Ups

The faint blaring of the alarm was just enough to drag Peter out of his sleep, and for a moment, he was confused to find himself curled up on Amanda’s bed next to Vader. He sighed, knowing that in order to be ready for school, he had to get up, and he had to do it without waking Amanda or the dog. Neither of them could function if woken up too early.

Slowly, he shifted in the bed and turned to face the wall. The floor squeaked badly, so he’d crawl on the ceiling. He reached up for the wall and pulled himself to it, rustling the blankets only a little. He deftly made his way across the ceiling, climbing over the frame of the door and out into the hall.

From there, he scampered down the walls and into his room, smacking his hand on top of the alarm clock to silence it. He changed into the first outfit he could find, and headed to the bathroom to brush his hair. He flipped on the light and gasped.

His right eye was surrounded by the most hideous, grotesque, and terrifying bruise he had ever seen. Purple, blue, and even a bit of green was blotched from his eyebrow to halfway down his cheek. _This_ was a problem.

Everyday people like Peter Parker didn’t get bruises like this. This looked like the kind of bruise that came with a skull fracture. This was the last thing everyone a school needed to see.

He couldn’t go to school without questions being asked. And questions meant answers and answers meant he’d have to lie and he was a terrible liar and that meant everyone was going to figure out his secret identity and _what was he going to do._

“Mandy!” he shouted, frantically looking around the bathroom for something to cover up the contusion. “Mandy, help!”

A scramble of paws and feet came down the hall and Amanda burst into the bathroom with Vader hot on her heels. “What is it?” she asked urgently, glancing around for an emergency.

“My _eye_ ,” Peter moaned, “everyone’s going to see and they’ll know I was in a fight and then they’ll know I’m Spider-Man!”

Amanda stared at him, her eyes narrowing. “You woke me up….for _this?_ ” If looks could kill, she’d just sliced his throat with a serrated knife.

“We’ve got to _do_ something!” he urged, glancing back at his reflection in the mirror. “Mr. Stark will kill me if someone finds out!”

“Not if I kill you first,” she growled, stomping back down the hall and shutting her bedroom door with a slam.

It was then that Peter realized it wasn’t 8 o’clock, and therefore Amanda wasn’t human yet—she was still some sort of zombie…demon…witch. One of those worked.

Still, he had to get her up. She would know of a way to cover up the bruise, probably having done it too herself several times in the past. Maybe he could bribe her…

Cautiously walking into her room, he crawled up on the wall and crouched next to her head. It was safer to be up high in case she set her dog loose on him.

“Amaaandaaaaa,” he drawled softly, “wake uuuuuup.”

She didn’t respond.

“If you wake up, I’ll let you put make up on me,” he offered in a tantalizing manner. “You can make me look like a girl with lipstick and everything and I’ll wear it for a whole hour.”

She peeked out from under the covers. “In front of Ned?”

Peter bit his lip. Girl make up would be easier to explain that this bruise. “In front of Ned.”

“What do you get out of it?”

“You help me cover up this bruise.”

She seemed to be considering his offer. “Go heat up my coffee,” she said finally, “and I’ll do it.”

Peter scampered down the walls to the kitchen and dangled from the ceiling with he popped the leftover Starbucks drink into the microwave. May never let him climb the walls except for in his bedroom, so he had to take advantage of it while Amanda’s rules were in play.

Amanda had four rules: never wake her up earlier than 8 a.m., don’t do things that harm you, others, or objects, patrolling could go no later than one in the morning, and never, ever, under any circumstances, put pineapple on pizza. Ever.

It was only the last one that Peter had repeated issues with following.

The microwave beeped, and he carried the paper cup back down the hall to her room, where the now bathrobe-clad Amanda was sleepily going through her makeup bag. He passed her the cup, impatiently waiting for her to take the six sips required to wake her up.

He pulled his aunt’s vanity stool over and sat down, tapping his foot as she finally took a sip of the coffee. She pulled out several different containers of tan stuff, holding each one against his skin. Then she took another sip of coffee.

Slowly, she chose one bottle of tan stuff and squirted it onto some little squishy blue egg shaped thing and started dabbing it on his skin.

“That’s cold,” he pulled away, surprised by how weird everything felt.

“Sit still.” She grabbed his chin and held it firmly as she spread the liquid around.

“Stop pressing so hard. This hurts, you know.”

“Just be thankful I’m not plucking your brows. Now quit squirming or I’ll use the eyelash curler.” Peter breathed a sigh of relief as she reached for her coffee again. Three sips to go.

“What’s that slimy stuff called?”

“The concealer?”

“And the squishy thing?”

“A beauty blender.”

“Why does it look like an Easter egg?”

“Because they didn’t want it to look like fish egg? How am I supposed to know the answer to that?” She pulled out another bottle of slimy stuff, slightly lighter, and began to rub that on his face too.

“You could ask Google. Or Alexa. I keep telling May to get Alexa, but she says the government made her so they can listen to our conversations.”

“If the government wanted to do that, they wouldn’t bother making personal Siri knock offs, they’d just stick a drone in your house.” With that, she stepped back to examine her work, looking satisfied with what she’d done. “Go get breakfast, we have to leave in ten minutes.”

Peter jumped up and raced into the bathroom, shocked to find that he couldn’t even see the bruising, but his eye was still swollen. He managed to grab some hot cereal before Amanda came out of her room, having finally ingested her six sips of coffee.

“Come on! Let’s go, you’ll be late!” She grabbed her keys and a jacket from the closet and hurried him out the door, he managed to snag his backpack on the way out.

She was _finally_ starting to get a clue of where his school was, and he only had to tell her where seven of the nine turns were. They pulled up in front of the school, and she stopped him to make sure the bruise was still properly covered.

“Will someone notice?” he asked nervously.

“I doubt it,” she replied, blending it a little more with her finger.

“If they do, I’ll just tell them I walked into a door or something.”

“No, no, no, don’t do that!” she exclaimed, waving her hands. “’I walked into a door’ is basically code for ‘I’m being abused.’ No, don’t say that!”

“Then what do I say?”

She glanced over at the school entrance. “You’ll think of something. Now, go, before you’re late!”

No one said a word about Peter’s eye, but Michelle gave him a lingering stare at lunch. Not that she didn’t do that on other occasions, of course. A few students still weren’t ready to let the Spider-Man video go, and at lunch, they tripped Peter and taunted him about his reflexes for the rest of the day.

Peter wanted so desperately to tell them that wasn’t how Spider-senses worked, but he managed to simply ignore them. Surprisingly, Flash completely avoided him at all costs. He didn’t look at Peter, didn’t talk to him, didn’t even talk _about_ him. It was actually quite concerning.

The bell finally rang, signaling the end of the day, and Peter and Ned met out front to wait for Amanda, who had arranged to pick them both up. Ned kept messing with his shirt and hair, to the point where it grew annoying.

“Why do you keep doing that?” Peter finally asked, staring at his friend.

“I’m trying to appear more confident,” Ned replied. “One cannot be loved by a woman if one if afraid of her.”

Peter groaned. “It’s not gonna happen, Ned.”

“I have hope,” Ned told him firmly. “I’ve even been brushing up on my poetry.”

Peter laughed aloud. “That’s the last thing on this earth that will impress her.”

“It’s about a woman who murders people in their sleep. I thought maybe she’d find it relatable.”

“Unless you want to be the sleeping person who gets murdered, I wouldn’t try your luck.”

Ned frowned. “Well, it’s not like you have any ideas to offer.”

Peter shrugged and shivered deeper into his jacket. They weren’t allowed to wait for their ride inside the school, but it was frigidly cold outside. He could wait to get home and do his homework wrapped up in a blanket with some nice hot chocolate…he gasped.

“What?” Ned questioned at his outburst.

“We have to go.” Peter grabbed his bag and began hurrying down the steps.

“Why? What happened?” Ned’s eyes got wide. “Did you sense someone in trouble?”

“Yeah, me!” Peter ran back to drag Ned along with him. “We can’t let Mandy see us!”

“Why?”

“Because this morning she helped me with something and in return I have to let her put a full face of make up on me!”

“Why would you even agree to that?” Ned hissed back as the crept around the gate to the school.

“I was desperate,” Peter admitted softly.

“Hey guys,” came a voice from behind them. Both froze in their tracks. “Going somewhere?”

“We were looking for you,” Peter tried lamely as he turned to face, you guessed it, Amanda.

“Uh huh.” She crossed her arms. “Get in the car or you can to walk home.”

Neither wasted a single second in doing so. “Looking for her?” Ned whispered in Peter’s ear. “That’s the worst cover up ever!”

“I’m a bad liar!” Peter whispered back as Amanda climbed into the front seat. “You know these things!”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I honestly feel so bad for dragging these chapters out...I JUST NEED TO GET TO THE STInKing POINT. (Because I really do have one...) But whatever. Usually I'm breaking everyone's hearts so this is a nice change. 
> 
> Thoughts on the chapter? Leave them in the comments!
> 
> ~Spinofflady


	24. Stinging Spiders

“Behold, the great Peter Parker. Fearless. Bold. Beautiful.” Ned held his phone in front of Peter’s face, narrating in a falsely deep voice while Amanda coated him in makeup.  Peter glared at him, but could say nothing since he was having his lips done.

Ned laughed and zoomed in. “He looks he came straight of the front page of _Vogue_ magazine. The eyeliner has been done with…” he glanced to Amanda for assistance.

“The eyeliner has done with a Soft Kohl Kajal eyeliner,” she informed him, reading off the pencil label. “With blending, it has given the eye a smokey effect which was blurred into the eye shadow for a dramatic appearance.”

Ned grinned at the way she jumped into his narrative. “And those lips are second only to Kylie Jenner. So plump and pink.”

“The rose colored matte lipstick really sells the look.” Amanda agreed as she applied just a little more.

“Are you almost done?” Peter asked with hatred glowing in his eyes, now framed by false lashes. This lipstick tastes awful.”

“You aren’t supposed to eat it,” Amanda chided, blending the foundation into his hairline a bit more. “And I still don’t know how you’re pulling this off.”

“You’d be a pretty girl,” Ned added with a laugh, then jumped out of the way to avoid getting smacked. “It seems our model is feisty. Let’s see if that will serve him on the catwalk.”

Peter jumped out of his chair and chased Ned into the kitchen, chucking pillows at him as he went.

After a full hour of Peter impatiently watching the clock and Ned giddily sticking a camera in Peter’s flawlessly decorated face, Amanda handed over the makeup remover wipes. He took them gratefully and frantically cleaning off his face. It didn’t take him very long to discover that they tasted terrible, and he decided it would be better to watch his lips off with a washcloth instead.

Ned had to go home, so the three (and Vader) piled into the car once again, cranked the music to full volume, and made their way to drop Ned off.  Amanda got lost twice, and between that and fighting traffic it was six thirty by the time they got Ned home.

Amanda decided that now was as good a time as every to get the grocery shopping done, and with a bit of effort, she located the store. The two made their way inside, but stopped to help an old lady put her bags in her car.

Once finally inside the store, Amanda sent off with half the list and paused to order a pizza from the small cafeteria within the store. There was _no_ chance Peter wasn’t starving by now, and she knew that there were no leftovers in the fridge at home. He’d eaten all of them that afternoon. That kid had a black hole for a stomach.

Amanda made her way through the aisles, thinking about how much she hated shopping and how she dearly hoped Vader wasn’t chewing through any of her seats. She would take him to a park on their way home, which hopefully wouldn’t be very busy at this time of night. She had covered the windows with a blanket so that hopefully he couldn’t see anyone and wouldn’t break through the windows trying to attack.

Her phone buzzed, and she fished it out of her pocket. It was Peter, and when she unlocked her phone to view the message, he was still typing.

_I can’t find any fresh celery._

_Or hamburger buns._

_Wait nvm I found the buns._

_Can we get frozen egg rolls?_

_Also what are Tampons?_

She cringed and chuckled under her breath, realizing she must have given him the wrong half of this list. Quickly, she replied and told him to get the egg rolls and leave the other items to her.

 _Can I get key lime pie too?_ Came his swift response. _Oh and I just tried a sample of some barbecue wings and they’re soooooo good so can I get those?_

He was hungry alright. _Yes to the pie, no to the wings. I ordered pizza and we can get a side of wings with that if u want._ She was about to stick the cell back in her pocket when he texted again.

_Can we get 2 sides?_

She rolled her eyes and ignored him, wondering how anyone besides Tony Stark could afford to feed him. She finished her shopping listening to her phone buzz about every minute or so. She finally met him near the register, and he dropped his items in her cart and announced he would meet her at the car because he had to use the bathroom. “Grab the pizza on your way out,” she called after him.

There was luckily no line to check out, and within a few minutes she was headed back to her car. Vader hadn’t chewed through the seats (thank God) and was actually sleeping in the back seat. She began loading the bags into the trunk.

“Hey baby,” a voice came from behind her, and she sucked in a breath before turning around. A young man stood there, decked out in tattoos with his cargo pants hanging half off his butt. This was going to be interesting.

“What’s a cute little thing like you doing out here all by yourself?” he came up behind her and began to look through her shopping bags. “That’s a lot off food. Who’s gonna eat it all? Can’t be you, not with a body like that.”

She ignored him and continued stacking the bags of food into the trunk.

“Aw, playing hard to get, how sweet,” he came over and leaned on her car, tracing it with his dirty finger.

“Listen buddy, I’ve got a 95 pound German Shepherd in the back seat, and unless you want him coming through that window, I suggested you go on your merry little way.” She glared at him before grabbing the last of the bags and loading them in the car.

“Fine, I’m going,” he said casually, “but maybe I’ll take you with me.”

He lunged at her, wrapping a hand around her waist pulling her in close to him. Without a moments hesitation, Amanda slammed her elbow into the base of his neck. He staggered back, releasing her with a yell of pain.

He turned back to her, his fist flying in the direction of her face. Before she could even react, Peter was between them, catching the man’s fist in the palm of his hand.

“Keep your hands to yourself,” Peter growled, rotating the man’s wrist back painfully. “Or else I might have trouble keeping my hands off your neck.”

In one swift movement, he flung the man down on the pavement, and the stranger wasted no time in scrambling away. “Don’t let me catch you doing this again!” Peter shouted after him. “Let’s go, Mandy.”

He was still holding the pizza box, which was crushed on one edge from being gripped so tightly, and he climbed into the passenger seat wordlessly.

Slightly stunned but grateful, Amanda sat down in the driver’s seat. Peter was furiously scanning the mostly empty parking lot, anger burning in his gaze.

“You know, you didn’t have to do that,” Amanda said softly as she pulled out of the lot and onto the main road. “I wasn’t going to let him hurt me.”

“I swear, if he so much as _looks_ at you I’ll beat him to-”

“Whoa, whoa, whoa,” Amanda glanced over at him in surprise. “What are you so worked up about?”

“He was gonna hurt you! And the stuff he was saying, I can’t believe him! He doesn’t get to say stuff like that about you! Not on my watch!” Peter scowled, folded his arms and stared out the window.

Despite all effort, Amanda cracked a smile. “You are so _cute_ when you’re mad.”

“I’m not cute.”

“Yes, you are!” She said as though talking to a baby, poking at his ribs. “Totally adorable. I’ve got my own precious little bodyguard!”

He frowned even more.

“Alright, geez. Tough crowd.” She came to a stoplight and put on her right turn signal.

“It’s a left,” Peter mumbled from beside her.

She finally made it to the park, and while Vader chased squirrels, the too sat on the park bench eating pizza and hot wings while shivering with cold. Peter was still in a bad mood, hardly saying a word and not eating like a starved animal.

“Okay,” she said finally. “What’s going on? The Peter I know would have finished this pizza ten minutes ago.”

He huffed. “I just didn’t like him treating you like that.”

“Does it really bother you that much?”

He nodded slowly, and Amanda smiled. “Thanks. I didn’t say that before, and I probably should have. I really do appreciate you standing up for me like that.”

Peter brightened visibly. “You’re welcome.”

“How come you don’t stand up for yourself? You let Flash push you around all the time.” She reached for another wing.

“I dunno,” he shrugged, shoving some more pizza in his mouth. “I guess it’s just not worth the trouble.”

“Well it should be,” she replied quickly. “If it’s worth your trouble to stand up for people like me then it should be worth your trouble to stand up for yourself.”

He didn’t reply, but that was only because his mouth was stuffed to the brim with pizza. Vader came running over with a tennis ball he had found, frantically begging one of them to throw it for him. Amanda took the ball and tossed it into some trees, Vader barking ecstatically as he bounded after it.

“That was a terrible throw,” Peter mumbled between bites.

Amanda stared at him with her mouth slack. “Well then, oh great tennis ball thrower, please show me how to do it.” When Vader brought the ball back, she passed it to him.

He took it smugly and threw it with all his might. It kept going, and going, and _going,_ and it kept on going until it was completely out of sight. Vader turned and stared at Peter with a look of doggy disappointment.

“Maybe I put a little too much arm in that,” he grinned sheepishly.

“Ya think?” 

* * *

 

Mac Gargan lay on the uncomfortable prison cot, staring at the white cement walls surrounding him. Sterile, boring, confining…he could think of several words to describe them, but most of all, they were too familiar.

How long had he been here? He’d lost count of the weeks, perhaps they were months now. Within a prison, there was no concept of time. Night was the eight hours when the lights were turned down low, day was when the fluorescent bulbs were flickering obnoxiously.

If he’d had good behavior, he might have been allowed some fresh air, but he would never obey anyone for such a simple reward. Never.

“Mac Gargan?” A voice said from the doorway, a security guard stepping through it. “I’m here to talk to you about a scorpion.”

The password. Mac had never seen this man before, but he went along anyway, replying with the next part of the code. “Those stingers hurt, I hear.”

The man smiled, in what seemed like relief. “Worse than a spider bite.”

He knew the whole password. So his boys _had_ sent him. But why? “Where’s Schumock?” Mac demanded. “He gets my Intel.”

“Dan Schumock is dead,” the man replied,  not bothering his back to the security cameras as Mac would have done.  “The plan to draw Spider-Man out…well, it backfired.”

Mac folded his arms and nodded, prodding for an explanation.

“The kid from Midtown that you had him drug, was apparently sick all that night, and even with crimes happening all over the city, Spider-Man didn’t show up to one of them. Kid wasn’t at school the next day, and some FBI agent came into the school and yelled at a bunch of the kids for spiking his drink. It wasn’t until late that night that Spider-Man responded to a crime, one Dan committed himself.”

“What kind of idiot puts himself out there like that?” Mac shook his head, though glad that Dan was no longer able to spill the beans about anything.

“He said he was going to make sure that if Spider-Man was out, he’d see the crime. Spider-Man saw it alright. Dan was pretending to mug one of our girls, spider-kid came swinging over to save the day, and ended up smashing his head into the wall. It was a mess.”

“Did he at least get those saliva tests to you?”

The security guard nodded. “We got one from the doc, and Dan got one from when our little spider friend was out patrolling and dropped a half eaten sandwich.”

“And?”

“They match.”

Mac drew in a long breath. “And the suit?”

“It’s finished. You’re the only thing we need now.”

A crooked smile worked its way across his face and he stood up off the cot, brushing his hands off on his orange pants. “Then let’s go sting some spiders, shall we?”

The guard smiled back and opened the heavy, magnetically sealed door and Mac walked under it, headed towards freedom and revenge.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Oh, look. It's the plot. And it's back. For good. Lot's of fun secrets in this chapter guys! Let's see how many you have figured out...
> 
> ALSO........look how long this was! YAAAAYY! It was like...six pages in my word document!
> 
> Thanks for reading and let me know what you think down in the comments!
> 
> ~Spinofflady


	25. The Best Part

Darkness covered the park, but Peter, Amanda, and Vader remained for some time. The dog was exuberantly taking all the exercise he could get, and Peter happily joined in on the action. Amanda, not in the mood to be a part of the snowball fight that was ensuing, decided to stay at the picnic table and simply watch.

The two were racing around in the snow, Vader obviously enjoying the chance to play with someone who could actually keep up with him, and Peter was apparently doing the same. It was hard two believe she was almost two months into this job, and she was surprised to find that she hadn’t hated it yet. Well, minus her boss, of course.

Peter and Vader came barreling over, Peter grinning and the dog wagging his tail furiously.

“Come on, Mandy!” Peter laughed, attempting to grab her arm and drag her off the bench. “I need a team mate!”

Amanda chuckled and pulled away. “Nope. I’m not going to do that to my dog. You’re on your own, Spandex!”

Peter groaned, but was racing off again almost before Amanda even heard it. She wondered why she had declined him, it wasn’t like she had a legitimate reason not to go play in the snow with them. She grabbed her bottom lip between her teeth and watched them, her mind photoshopping her four little brothers into the mix. Ethan, Luke, Hayden, and Nathaniel…they were all there, pitching snow at each other with joyful laughter.

She wondered what they looked like now. When was the last time she’d seen them? Eight? Nine years ago? Did they miss her? Or even remember her, for that matter? What were they doing? How old were they? That was stupid; she could figure it out.

Ethan was 18, Luke was 15, Hayden would be….13, and Nathaniel… was he 11 now? She couldn’t remember if he had been one or two when she left. He must look so different. All she could remember was his dark brown curls, smiling gray eyes, and pudgy fingers.

Could she find them if she tried? Probably. Would she try? Probably not.

Her family had only caused her pain in the past. There was no need to conjure up that pain again, for herself or for them. She only hoped that her brothers had found a good home, and that they were safe. And hopefully they wouldn’t end up alone.

She had lived alone for months, and despite having the best dog on the planet, it had been hard. She missed her childhood, even the parts where she was desperately trying to keep her brother’s out of her room. Peter was the closest thing to family she’d had in years.

Amanda sucked in a quick breath. Had she just thought of him as…family? Yes, she had, and the more she thought about it, the more she realized that her treated her with the same brotherly affectionate hate that she’d received from her own siblings.

Her cared about her, she knew that, but it was with horrifying sorrow she discovered she cared about him.

She liked having his company, and picking on him, and embarrassing him in front of his friends, and then treating him to pizza to make up for it. She liked the insult matches and frequent pranks and ridiculous jokes and the smile he gave when she offered advice. She liked playing the role of a big sister, and he seemed to like having one.

And she knew from experience none of that was okay.

She knew that when this six months was over, life would go back to normal and she would go home, and suddenly she would be all alone again. And she knew that the more she let herself be happy now, the more she would hurt herself later. 

She had to go. She had to get out. She couldn’t stay here. Tomorrow she would talk to Tony about finding someone to replace her, before she could let anymore of her heart get wrapped up in having a little brother again.

She called Peter and Vader to the car, cranking up the radio so that hopefully Peter wouldn’t talk to her as much on the way home.

There was no need for her to worry, however, because both Peter and Vader slept the entire way home, and she practically had to drag the two upstairs. Vader curled up on her bed, and after a brief good-night, Peter was fast asleep as well.

* * *

The next morning Amanda, was up before 7:30, and Peter stared at her as if she were a ghost.

“Who are you, and what have you done with Amanda?” He asked between bites of cereal.

“Very funny,” she replied. “Sometimes I decide to get up before the sun.”

“But the sun is already up…” Luckily, Peter trailed off and continued eating. She hurried him into the car drove to his school with the help of her GPS and told him he’d have to take the bus home.

He was obviously confused by the way she was acting, but didn’t question it, and for that she was thankful. She headed for Stark Tower, trying to keep her mind as clear as possible. On her way in, she flashed her badge as the security guard and marched up to the elevator.

“FRIDAY, where is Mr. Stark?” she asked the AI once inside.

“He is on floor 14, in his office, Miss Harding,” came the smooth reply.

Amanda pressed the button firmly, tapping her foot impatiently as the elevator began its ascent. A ding finally sounded, and she stepped out, her heels clacking against the tile floor. Unsure of which direction to go, she decided it was best to just follow the sound of rock music, and it lead her straight to Tony’s office.

She let herself in, finding him standing on a step ladder, attempting to put some books up on the top shelf, but was clearly too short.

He turned and saw her, and with a snap, pointed to her. “You are just the person I need,” he quipped, climbing down off the step ladder. “You put this pile of books on that shelf and I’ll buy you a donut.”

“I’m in heels, so…no thank you.” She set her bag down on the desk with a thud.

“Two donuts. With sprinkles.”

“I hate sprinkles.”

“Who in their right mind hates sprinkles?”

“Who in their right mind murders their brain cells by getting drunk every other day?” Amanda gestured to the open, half empty bottle of Vodka on the desk.

“That’s a bit harsh, don’t you think?” Tony offered her a pout, to which she didn’t even bother to roll her eyes at.

“Okay then, Mrs. Crabapple, what do you want?” Tony plopped down in his seat, kicking his feet up on the wooden desk.

Amanda pulled up a chair and pushed his feet down before sitting in it. “I’d like to be able to see your face without having my view blocked by your feet.”

Indignantly, Tony put his feet back up on the desk. “Of course.”

“I’m here to talk to you about Peter,” Amanda started, knowing there was no point in acknowledging his feet again. 

“What, is he not being a good little spider?”

“Yes, as a matter of fact, he is. Most of the time he’s a perfect little spider, and when he’s not, it’s usually because he’s getting drugged at a party or accidentally killing a mugger in a fight.”

“He killed a mugger?” Tony’s brows were raised in interest.

“Yes, and then he came home and sobbed for an hour because he felt so guilty.”

“He’s a sweet kid, I’ll give him that.”

Amanda’s mouth went slack for a moment. “And that’s exactly why this whole Spider-Man thing is destroying him! He’s got the biggest heart of anyone I’ve even known. He started crying while watching Animal Planet because a kitten had to get put down—and then he’s expected to go fight crime that most cops would need therapy after! This isn’t healthy, Tony. This is going to hurt him.”

Tony’s head lolled to one side, either of boredom or consideration, Amanda couldn’t tell which. “Yeah, but he’ll get used to it. I did.”

Amanda could hardly believe her ears. “You did? I find it hard to believe you even had to get used to anything,” she scoffed, “not with a heart as cold and nonexistent as yours.”

Tony took his feet off the desk. “I’ll have you know that after what happened in New York, I had anxiety for months. And that was _with_ therapy.”

“Don’t even talk to me about New York!” she spat viciously. “You have no _earthly idea_ what happened in New York!”

“Oh really?!” he shot back. “Who was the one who flew a nuclear bomb up into space? Me! Who was the one who nearly died in the process? Me!”

“Yeah, and while you and your ridiculous little Avengers tore the city apart, guess who was helping people evacuate the buildings. Me.” she leaned forward, glaring in the most terrifying way she knew how. “I was there with S.H.I.E.L.D., and my job was to clear the buildings before one of you decided to knock it over.”

Tony said nothing, so she went on.

“A woman came up to me and asked me to make sure her husband got out safely. I told her I would. Two minutes later you come blasting through and knock down a supporting beam, and the whole building just caves in. I made it out, but 37 other people didn’t. It was my job to help haul body after body out of that building, or what was left of it. Sometimes they weren’t even entire bodies. Just an arm or a leg, and we had to piece them together to be identified.”

Tony still said nothing.

“And that woman I told you about? Yeah, her husband was one of them. I was carrying his head, just his head, out of the rubble when she came up to me and asked where he was. She took one look and died on the spot. _That’s_ what happened in New York. After that, I quit. I had nowhere to go, no family left. I was on my own. You think you had anxiety? I had to train my dog to draw me out of a panic attack. I became addicted to my medication, to the point where I nearly overdosed on it.

“Finally I got tired of it controlling me and I flushed it down the toilet, but I still couldn’t sleep at night. It took me _a year and a half_ to get where I could see a dead squirrel in the road and not get sick at the memory of what happened in New York.”

Tony was no longer making eye contact, but that didn’t stop her.

“I started training at nine years old. S.H.I.E.L.D. trained me to kill, to see death, to cope with it. That did nothing. So, I _know_ that Peter is not going to ‘just get used to it.’ He’s not going to stop being bothered by this stuff, and it _will_ hurt him in the long run. So unless, you want him to become like you, if not worse, I suggest you get him some therapy.”

Tony took in a deep breath, and clasped his hands together, trying to regain some composure. “I see your point. I’ll schedule an appointment and have you take him tomorrow.”

“Unfortunately, I can’t do that,” Amanda stood and grabbed her purse.

“Oh, and why ever not?” Tony asked with a heaving sigh.

“Because I quit.”

“You quit.” He echoed blankly.

“Yes.”

“You can’t quit.”

“I just did.” She headed for the door.

“You won’t get paid!”

“Oh, yes I will.  It’s in the contract.”

“Who’s gonna watch the kid?”

She halted for a moment. “I don’t know. But he really looks up to you, so it would be nice if he got to spend some time with literally one of his favorite people on the planet.”

“If you walk out that door, you can’t come back.”

“Believe me, Mr. Stark,” she said with a smile as she exited the room. “That’s the best part.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> PLOT PLOT PLOT PLOT PLOT THERE IS FINALLY A PLOT. I'm actually very proud of myself for this chapter, because I wrote the entire thing in one sitting and it isn't horrible! Yay! (And I stuck a bit of Amanda's backstory in there too!)
> 
> So.....what does everyone think of my chapter with a plot? Any theories on where it's going?
> 
> Thanks for reading!
> 
> ~Spinofflady


	26. The Worst Part

It was four o’clock by the time Peter made it home from school, and if he hadn’t been too broke to buy a sandwich he would have gone patrolling right away. But his growling stomach demanded he go home first, and he dumped his backpack by the door and headed for the kitchen. He paused, finding a half-packed suitcase sitting in the hallway.

Amanda was in her room, pulling clothes out of the closet and drawers and stuffing them carelessly in a duffel bag. He scanned the room, discovering that Vader’s toys had been packed as well.

“Mandy?” he began slowly, staring at the scene with wide eyes. “What are you doing?”

She halted abruptly and turned to face him, pursing her lips. Then, slowly and deliberately, she said, “I’m leaving.”

Peter sucked in the breath he’d been holding. “Why? What did I do?”

Amanda shoved the last few shirts into the bag and zipped it up. “Nothing, Peter. This is not your fault, and there’s nothing you can do to fix it.”

“Then…why?”

She bit her lip and stared at the floor. “Because…I have issues that I need to work out. Issues with myself, issues with my boss—specifically those issues.”

“Mr. Stark isn’t all bad, Mandy! I promise! He gets nicer once you get to know him. He just puts up this mask at first and acts all tough and-”

“I know, Peter.” She cut him off. “I don’t want the mask to come down.”

“What? Why?”

She was quiet for some time, and finally answered shakily, “Because I put up the very same mask, and I know what’s underneath it. I don’t want to see what’s there it because I know it will remind me of myself. Once he takes it down it will be like looking in a mirror, and I can’t take that right now.” By the time she finished the sentence her voice was wavering as though she might cry. “I’m sorry, but I can’t stay here anymore. I quit the job today.”

“But…I’ll miss you,” Peter whispered softly, trying to fight off the oncoming tears. “I like having you here.”

Amanda said nothing, but wiped her eyes and grabbed a few pairs of shoes, placing them in the suitcase in the hallway and zipping it up. Vader watched from the bed, his dark intelligent eyes appearing to understand what was happening.

“Mandy wait,” Peter desperately tried to stop her as she gathered up the duffel bag and her backpack from on the bed. “You don’t have to go. I can talk to Mr. Stark and I can work this out! Please don’t leave!”

Amanda still said nothing, and carried the bags toward the front door.

“Mandy? Mandy, please! I don’t want you to go!”

“Come on, Vader,” she called as she slipped on her boots and coat. The dog ambled over and allowed her to clip his leather leash on.

“Mandy, stop! I don’t understand! Why can’t you stay?” Peter ran ahead and blocked her from the door, hot tears pouring over his cheeks. “What did I do?” He pleaded, refusing to let her push him aside.

“This isn’t your fault,” she told him firmly. “You have to believe me.”

“Then why are you leaving? What happened?”

She offered him a hug, which he accepted, only to find that it was brief and seemingly insincere.

“Trust me, Peter,” she told him softly. “This is the worst part.”

And with that, she was gone.

There was no explanation. No sentimental farewell. She just…left.

He was alone. Abandoned. Just like in the parking garage. There was no one here to help him. Not even Amanda, to tell him stupid made up cat stories and let him sleep on her bed. After everything she’d done, after he truly believed that she cared, just as much as May and Ben and definitely more than Mr. Stark, she just…left.

And she didn’t even tell him why.

How could this not be his fault? Why would she do this to him if it wasn’t his fault? He sank down against the door, too numb to cry. Why did he even feel like crying anyway? He wished Amanda was here to tell him what he was feeling. He’d never been all that good at indentifying all that emotional stuff. To him, sad was sad, but Amanda would label it hurt or grieving or something like that. Maybe betrayal? That seemed right.

The apartment was silent, except for the ticking of a clock. At one time, he would have welcomed that. Now, everything was too quiet, too lonely, too sad. The clocked ticked for what felt like hours, and lost in a tangle of thoughts, Peter let the hours pass by. A knock finally sounded behind him, and he staggered to his feet to open it.

Happy stood there, his usual frown plastered on his face. “Are you ready?”

“Ready?” Peter stammered. “Ready for what?”

“To leave,” Happy gestured behind him vaguely.  “You’re coming to stay at the Tower. You got Stark’s message, right?”

“I haven’t checked my phone…”

Happy smacked his forehead. “The one time you decide not to look at your messages…go pack some clothes. And make it snappy, I’m on a tight schedule here.”

Confused, Peter hurried to his room, gathered some clothes and shoved them into a suitcase along with his favorite checkered blanket and slung his bag full of homework over his shoulder. Happy was waiting for him in the kitchen, and rushed him down the hall and into the Ferrari sitting outside.

The radio was tuned to some old jazz station, but Peter hardly noticed. Everything was happening so fast. He needed to call May and tell her what was going on. Or did she already know? What he wouldn’t give for her to be here now, to wrap him up in a hug and say it was all over and things could go back to the way they were.

It only seemed like a matter of minutes before they reached the tower, and pulled up in front of the entrance. Peter could see Mr. Stark waiting for him just inside the glass doors. His expression was unreadable, but Peter figured that the man must be upset at him for something, since Amanda had just quit.

He grabbed his backpack and the suitcase he had frantically packed, and walked up to the doors, they slid open for him, and a blast of warm air billowed out into the snow.

“Hey, kid,” Tony greeted, much more enthusiastically than Peter had expected. “How you been?”

“Fine, I guess?” Peter offered weakly, once again taking in the awe-inspiring beauty of the building’s interior.

Tony stood awkwardly, as though searching for words, before finally breaking the silence. “Well, let me show you where you’ll be staying until we can make other arrangements.”

He gestured for Peter to follow him down the hall, into an elevator, until they finally made it to a bedroom on the ninth floor. Tony opened the door, ushering Peter inside. It looked just like a fancy modern hotel would (or at least how Peter envisioned one), with grays and whites with sleek furniture and strange looking artwork.

“Go ahead and get settled in, or whatever,” Tony instructed. “I’ll be down the hall if you need me.”

“Okay. Thanks.” Peter could only manage a soft, mumbled reply. Everything was so new and unfamiliar…he never did like change. Especially change that happened like this—sudden and intimidating.

He placed the suitcase on the bed, unzipping it and beginning to unpack the cloths in it. The fuzzy checkered blanket was on top, and with a slight smile he brought it too his face breathing in the familiar and beloved smell. The blanket never lost the musty smell of their old house, nor did it stopped reminding him of the night he spent curled up next to uncle Ben. Ben had checkered pajamas, and Peter had desperately wanted a matching pair. May could never find them in his size, so she got him the blanket instead.

In hindsight, Peter was grateful for that, because he could never grow out of a blanket the way he could pajamas.

With a sigh, he unpacked the rest of his clothes and put them in the top dresser drawer. He plugged his phone in to charge and sat down on the bed to tackle the homework that had been assigned earlier that day. He lost track of time, his nose buried in his science textbook, and finally his growling stomach brought his attention to the fact that several hours had gone by.

It was dark outside now, and Peter silently shut his books, hopping off the bed. He opened the door to his room and scanned the hall, wondering if he was alone. Quietly, he made his way down the dimly lit hallway in search of something to eat.

The hallway seemed to be a part of a large apartment, and he finally heard the sound of a TV a few doors down. He peaked around a corner and saw that there was an open living room with a kitchenette on the other side.

Tony was seated on the couch, staring blankly at the TV a glass of some probably alcoholic drink in his hand. Peter was about to announce his presence, but there was something that held him back. He couldn’t put his finger on it…maybe he was being ridiculous.

“Mr. Stark?” he began, approaching slowly. “Is there something I can eat? If not I’d be happy to run out and grab something…Mr. Stark?”

Tony continued staring, and now Peter realized he wasn’t even looking at the television.

“Mr. Stark? Are you okay?” Peter tapped the man on the shoulder, finally eliciting a response.

“Oh, hey, Pete. Didn’t here you come in.”He offered a lopsided smile. “Sit down.”

Uncomfortably, Peter sat down in the chair across from him. There was something very wrong with him.

“What time is it?” Tony blinked slowly.

Peter glanced around for a clock, finding one conveniently on the wall. “Ten o’clock,” he replied, still trying to figure out what was going on.

Tony’s unfocused gaze turned to the glass in his hand, then to Peter. He stiffly held out the glass. “Want some?”

Peter vehemently shook his head. “What even is it?”

Then man shrugged. “Dunno. Thor gave it to me a while back. Figured it’d be better than a plain old beer.”

Peter swallowed. At least now he knew Tony was just drunk, even though that wasn’t exactly comforting. Maybe if he were to change the topic, Mr. Stark would perk up a bit. “How long will I be staying here?”

“Long as you want. Until Aunt Hottie comes back, at least. Now that what’s her name is out of here-”

“Amanda,” Peter filled in quickly.

“More like A _mom_ da,” Tony laughed. “Couldn’t mind her own business.”

“Do you know why she quit?” Peter tried tactfully.

Mr. Stark stared at him, suddenly growing angry. “Is that what she told you? That she quit?”

Peter nodded.

“She didn’t quit,” he spat. “I fired her.”

Peter sucked in a breath. “Why?”

“Didn’t like her. Too sassy.”

“But she’s not-”

“Not what?” Tony all but slammed the glass down. “Not working for me anymore? Not coming back? I’ll tell you what she is—she’s a disrespectful, hoity-toity, spoiled little brat. She thinks I don’t care about you. Or anybody.”

“She does, Mr. Stark. I know-”

“This is your problem, Peter!” Tony suddenly shouted. “You think there’s good in everybody, and there’s not. Not in Amanda, not in the people you risk your head for every day, not in me! You’re too optimistic for your own good!”

Startled by the sudden outburst, Peter said nothing.

“Those people out there don’t deserve you. Not that you care about that; you’re willing to give up your own sanity for them! You’re willing to turn into me, for _them!_ Do you have any idea how stupid that is?!”

Tony sat down on the couch again, staring out into space for a long time. “I didn’t want you to become like me. I hired you a babysitter thinking that might spare you some of my influence. Turns out she was just as broken and screwed up as I was.”

“But… I want to be like you.” Peter offered sincerely.

Mr. Stark glanced over at him. “No. No, you don’t, kid. I’m the weakest person I know.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Oh look........A CHAPTER! (Took me long enough...) I'm SOOOOOOO sorry guys...this was a tough chapter to write. Anyway, I hope it cleared up some of the questions that have been hanging around for a while now....
> 
> Feel free to comment your thoughts!
> 
> ~Spinofflady


	27. The Common Denominator

It was a little weird, if she was being honest.

Amanda stood in front of her apartment door, just as she had been doing for the past five minutes, staring at the key in her hand. She was on her own again, no friends, no family. Just her dog, who was impatiently waiting beside her, glancing curiously from her to the locked door.

Sucking in a deep breath, she fitted the key in the lock, and turned it. The familiar click came without fail, and she pushed the door open to peer inside at the room. Everything was how she left it. Even down to the sunglasses she’d forgotten on her way out the door, still sitting on the kitchen countertop.

Vader didn’t miss a beat and happily walked into the apartment, giving everything a good sniff before hopping up on the grey armchair. Amanda slowly unpacked her things, placing them neatly into their former dresser home. She finally joined Vader in the living room, silently staring out the window for a long time.

“Almost like we never even left, huh boy?” She announced to the dog, who yawned in response.

Almost. Key word. Almost except for that little piece of her heart that she left in Queens. Almost except for the memories she now had, which were the best memories she’d made in years. Almost except for the hurt, the shock, the pure confusion in Peter’s eyes when she walked out the door. Oh, it had hurt her. She knew it hurt him, too.

But this was better. This would make things hurt less in the future. Maybe this would make Tony stop acting like a jerk and maybe she could figure out her life just a bit and maybe things would all turn out okay in the end.

Or maybe not.

Probably not.

Things rarely ever did for her.

She finally glanced away from the window, searching for something else in the quiet apartment to steal her attention. There wasn’t much to be seen. She’d never had many possessions throughout her life, and she didn’t like clutter anyway. Her gaze finally settled on the dog.

Man, did she love that dog. From the moment she saw him as a tiny little roly-poly puppy, she’d loved him and he’d loved her back. Back at S.H.I.E.L.D., everyone had dubbed him Amanda’s “boyfriend,” and she hadn’t complained. He was better than a boyfriend anyway.

Vader caught her looking, and before she could move her gaze, he had taken it as a command and hopped off his chair to come over. She smiled and patted the seat beside her. He more than willingly obeyed an plopped his sleek black head in her lap.

She smiled and began to stroke the smooth hair between his ears. After a few moments she had spaced out and ceased her petting, and the dog immediately responded by wiggling his whole front half of his body into her lap. Amanda chuckled and started to pet him again.

She’d trained him to do that while she was having regular panic attacks. Vader would come to her and demand her full attention, refusing to settle for idle touch. She had to be fully engaged with him, and it usually drew her mind away from the horrors it wanted to think about. Sometimes he had to perform extra tasks when the attacks were especially bad.

Vader, however, being the sneaky self absorbed dog that he could be, learned to apply the attention seeking exercises in other scenarios, simply to get attention. But Amanda never minded. He was the best friend she’d ever had.

“I love you, boy,” she told him, arms wrapping around his strong neck. “More than anything else in the whole world.”

Vader licked her ear, which is the dog equivalent of saying “I love you that much, too.”

Within minutes, the dog had passed out in her lap, snoring away. She grabbed the remote and turned the TV on, skipping through channels and finally landed on a news station.

“And now, some breaking news,” the female reporter was saying. “Crime lord Mac Gargan escaped from prison just last night. Authorities believe he may be dangerous and are asking everyone to stay alert.”

Amanda’s eyes narrowed. Gargan. Free. Two words that should never be used in the same sentence.

“A manhunt ensued the moment Gargan’s escape was realized,” the woman went on. “If you have any information on his whereabouts, please contact the NYPD.”

Amanda hit the power button. Her day was bad enough already. No need to listen to the news and make it worse.

Her phone buzzed in her back pocket, and she tactfully pulled it out, managing not to disturb the sleeping canine. An email alert.

She opened it up, discovering that in was a notification saying that files had been added to Peter’s medical history. She had been given full access to his medical history in case of emergency, and she was sent a notification anytime something was added or accessed. Surprised Tony hadn’t already turned her access off, she began to do so herself. The list of files came up, and just as she was about to log herself out of the system, the newest file caught her attention: _Saliva Test Results_.

Saliva Test? When did Peter get a saliva test?

She glanced at the date. _9/28._ Wait….that was all the way back when he got his wisdom teeth removed. She scrolled down to look at the notes. _Strep test: Neg. Oral surgery to continue._

Strep Throat test? That had nothing to do with a dental surgery. Dentists didn’t even give strep tests. She was pretty sure they didn’t give saliva tests….unless….

She scrolled back up to the name of the Oral Surgeon: Dr. Alex Grady. She pulled up a Google window and typed in the name, scanning through the results.

_Gargan/Grady Scandal?_

_Dr. Alex Grady: Working With Crime Lord?_

_Dentist Thought to Have Supplied Drugs to Dealer_

Every single one of the 126 results had something to do with Dr. Grady helping none other than Mac Gargan. He was, in all of them, pronounced innocent, but the thought hung heavy in the air. She couldn’t shake the thought that something bigger was taking place right under her nose.

Mac, Dan, and now Dr. Grady…what was the puzzle piece? The common denominator? Saliva test…drink spiking…

Then it hit her. The common denominator was Peter. Or more specifically, his DNA.

* * *

Tony stared at the wall, tapping is foot to the ticking of the clock. His head was pounding, and the double dose of Ibuprofen he’d taken had yet to kick in. What was he supposed to do with that kid? He didn’t know whether he should let him stay, or hire a new babysitter, or just let Pepper decide…one in the morning was too early to be thinking about this stuff.

The door to his office flew open and none other than Miss Amomda Harding stepped inside. Tony stared at her for a moment.

“One, you aren’t welcome here. Two, why didn’t you get zapped by security on your way in?”

She strutted over, her hair in a sloppy bun, clad in the most unflattering oversized hoodie probably ever. “Your ‘security’ is just a bunch of overlapping binary codes. I’m disappointed in you, Stark. A sixth grader could hack it.”

He leaned back in his chair. “You have four seconds to get out of my Tower.”

“Not happening.” She sat down in a chair, her eyes narrowed. “Peter is in danger.”

Tony laughed allowed. “He’s sleeping over with Iron Man. Peter is fine.”

“There are so many ways I could turn that sentence into an insult,” she replied harshly. “But luckily for you, I’m not here to do that.”

“Peter is fine, and now you have two seconds.”

She stared at him for a moment, her blue eyes searching. He was surprised she didn’t respond with a snarky remark, but the look on her face was so…different. “Alright, Stark,” she said softly, “I give up. I hope someday something hurts you so much it teaches you how to care. But until then-” she stood again, headed for the door. “don’t let anything hurt my Spider.”

* * *

Peter couldn’t sleep, so instead, he escaped. It was a bit late to start patrolling, but at this point…he probably wouldn’t be getting any sleep anyway. He’d just felt so empty, so…he didn’t even know how he felt.

The night was cold and quiet, and it felt as though snow was coming within the next few hours. The city was dark and almost silent.

And then the hair on his arms and the back of his neck stood up and all of a sudden… it wasn’t quiet anymore.

A great, bellowing roar filled the night air, nearly starling Peter as he jumped up to find the source of the noise. With nervous curiosity, he climbed across some buildings, webbed down some alley and froze.

There, at the end of a snow filled dead end, was the most terrifying creature Peter had ever laid eyes on. It was at least twenty feet tall, shaped somewhat like a lobster standing up on two legs. The arms were two massive claws, solid metal plates coating the…thing…from head to foot. A small window opened, and a man’s face appeared inside. Peter had seen him before, he just couldn’t put his finger on it.

“Hello, Spider-Man,” the man grinned savagely. “I am the Scorpion.” A massive, metal tail with a spike on the end slammed down in front of Peter, making him jump as sparks flew.

The man grinned even wider. “And I’m going to kill you.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> PLOT PLOT PLOT PLOT PLOT WELCOME TO THE PLOT. 
> 
> And now I shall leave you with this cliffhanger like the evil person I am. MUAHAHAAHAHA!
> 
> Thoughts?


	28. Mandy's Pick

“Why?” Peter choked out, his mind desperately trying to keep up with the situation at hand.

In response, the little window closed and the tail lifted out of the ground in order to strike again. Still too stunned to fight, Peter backed away and stared at the monstrous metal creation, failing to decipher what it was made of. Whatever it was looked very similar the metal on the Vulture, which couldn’t possibly be a good thing.

The colossal thing started hauling itself toward him, and Peter immediately realized that it wasn’t agile in the slightest. It was big and cumbersome, and come to think of it, he wasn’t even sure how it got into the alley in the first place.

The tail came flying at him again, and Peter leapt out of the way with time to spare, webbing his way to the opposite wall. The Scorpion turned with rigid movements, clearly not having been designed with small alleys in mind.

Peter crawled along the wall, keeping out of sight as it turned. This thing was dangerous out in the open, but here, it couldn’t maneuver well enough to pose a threat. Except for the fact that it could probably punch a whole seven feet into the ground with that tail, it couldn’t really do much damage.

The big lobster claws were stabbing along in the wall in order to help it move faster, and one reached out for him, opening and closing like a giant pair of scissors.

“Not today, Mr. Scorpion,” Peter called out, quickly shooting a web around the claws  to keep them shut.

The machine let out a bellow, swinging the other claw forward. Peter dodged it and webbed it in one swift motion.

The tail was a different story. It was made up entirely of metal joints, and it was equipped with complete range of motion. Peter raced around frantically, trying to catch it.

“Karen, what is this thing made out of?” he shouted to the AI, the cold air sucking his breath away.

“My scanners cannot read anything already in the data base, however, the machine is powered by a substance refined from the Chitauri energy core.”

“Oh, perfect. Alien weapons again.”

“The tail is also equipped with tracking sensors, and they appear to have locked onto you.”

Peter scrambled back just as the tail slammed into the brick wall, inches from his face. “ _Now_ you tell me?!”

Karen didn’t respond, probably to conserve the energy in his suit. The Scorpion had its back to the only entrance of the alley, blocking Peter in. The snow and ice on the ground was making it difficult to keep his footing, as was the lack of light.

The tail following his every move, often slamming down far too close for comfort. Running around like a mouse was getting him nowhere. He needed a plan, and fast.  Eyeing any unprotected spot on the Scorpion’s back, Peter jumped to it waiting for the tail to follow.

“Hey! Tail sensors! I’m over here!” he waved his arms as the tail turned, hesitated for the briefest of moments, and shot at him with more power than before. Peter jumped out of the way at the last possible second, the powerful tail colliding with its own body.

Peter landed in the alley, watching the Scorpion to see if he’d successfully killed it or not. The massive thing heaved a shudder, and the tail yanked up out of the metal back.

Well, shoot.

Though it was nearly impossible to see in the dark, the metal creation started to change, the tail and claws separating from the rest of the body, and the heavy back shoulders opening up to form a fourth wall at the end of the alley. A smaller, miniature Scorpion stepped forward, the tail swinging around, in front tauntingly. The mini-Scorpion raised the webbed up claws, and without even trying opened them, snapping his webs like a piece of string.

Double shoot.

Then it charged. This time it _was_ agile. This time it _was_ fast. This time, Peter was actually concerned that it might kill him.

Peter tried to repeat the tail through its own head trick, but instead of trying to strike at him, it swept sideways,  knocking him flat on the ground. He tried to roll left, but a claw slammed down beside him, send him the other direction, finding yet another claw.

Scrambling to his feet, he tried to crawl forward, but the tail blocked that escape, and two saw blades poked out from either claw, moving toward him steadily. Peter gasped and webbed the side of a building tying to climb out of reach.

The claws slammed into the brick, shaking the whole side of the building, and in his surprise, Peter let go. He sucked in a scream as he frantically trying to web the building again, but the ground was just too close, and he landed heavily on his left leg.

He cringed, not only from pain, but at the sound of bone cracking.

“I really should have been bitten by a radioactive cat instead,” he groaned, pulling himself away, the injured leg dragging behind him. “It’d be nice to land on my feet once in a while.”

The tail came up behind him, smacking him so hard he went airborne, his back slamming into the closest wall, and a claw stabbing into the bricks on either side of his head and lift him up and suddenly he was being strangled…he kick and struggled and trying to push the claw away from his throat.

It wasn’t working-

He could feel it cutting his skin-

And blood started dripping onto the snow-

And then the Scorpion stopped, a huge ball of fire exploding on his armored back. The claw pulled back, and Peter fell to the ground in a heap, but a smile broke out on his face. “Mandy!”

There she was, dressed in the suit Mr. Stark had given her, a blue ball of fire in each palm and _holy crap_ did she look mad _._

“Hey, lobster butt!” She shouted firing another plasma ball at his head. “Leave my Spider alone!” She wasn’t wearing a mask for whatever reason, and Peter could see anger burning in her eyes from all the way across the alley.

The tail came flying at her, but she shot a strand of electricity at it, driving it into the ground. She shot a blue ball at the wall, propelling herself to it. Once on the high ground, she started flinging the balls at the Scorpion mercilessly. “Assuming you graduated kindergarten, you must know that metal attracts lightning. You’re literally powering my suit right now!” She laughed as if it were some kind of joke. “You’ll be the cause of your own death!”

The Scorpion attempted to claw her, but with a blue ball thrown on the ground, the claw was magnetically yanked away.

“No one touches Spandex over there without my explicit permission!” she shouted, flinging a stream of electricity into the tail. “That includes you, Gargan!”

Gargan?

This was Mac Gargan? How did Mandy even know that?

Mac seemed surprised too, because he immediately stopped fighting, the machine stopped moving, and turned slowly in her direction. The window peeled back, and Mac and Mandy stared at each other for a long moment.

“Who are you?” Mac asked finally, almost as though he were disappointed by his opponent.

“My name is Amanda Collette Harding.” She jumped down off the wall, striding up to him the way she did to Peter on the very first day they met—fearlessly, boldly, _commandingly_.  “My father’s name was Alexander David Harding.” She continued walking, the electricity in her feet fizzing against the snow. “And you killed him.”

Mac actually looked afraid, and Peter could relate. Mandy could be _terrifying._

“He was that cop that found you smuggling marijuana in Washington D.C. The one you shot in the head.” With a flick of her hand, she was pushing the claws back with another stream of electricity. “I saw you in the courthouse. You went free. I remember knowing it was you. You destroyed my family, Mac Gargan. You ripped us apart forever.”

She released the tail long enough to fire a ball next to Gargan’s head. “Well, I’ve had just about enough of you hurting the people I love.” She yanked on the line of electricity, driving the claws and tail into the ground so forcefully Mac couldn’t pull them out again. “Say your good-byes, lobster butt.”

She started swirling the ball of blue energy around and around, making it so big she could hardly contain it within her palms. The energy within the electricity was so magnetically powerful it was visibly tugging on the tail and claws, and suddenly, the tail broke loose and it came flying right at Peter and half the blue ball went next to his head and the other half when in the sky and-

Mandy was suddenly in front of him, the tip of the Scorpion tail sticking out of her back.

The metal monster was dragged up and out of the alley by the other blue ball, ripping the tail out of Mandy’s chest and dropping her limply on the ground like a rag doll.

Peter could only sit and stare for half a moment, trying to comprehend what had just happened.

Then it hit him all at once, and with a cry of surprise, terror and shock, he launched himself at her body, tearing his mask off. “Mandy! Can you…are you…” he could find any words to say as he stared at the hole in her chest, his eye widening at the pooling blood. She dragged in a rasping breath, laced with pain and mostly ineffective.

Her glassy gaze turned to him. “Is it bad?” she croaked, her voice so strained Peter could hardly recognize it.

“I think…I think he missed your heart,” Peter whispered, forcing himself to look at the gaping wound in the right half of her chest. He could see her ribs, cracked and mangled and poking inward at odd angles.

“Snow…pack it with…snow will slow the bleeding.” Her voice, surprisingly calm  and soft, pulled him back to reality.

Peter nodded, grabbing a handful of white powder and placing it over the wound. Her mouth opened as though to give a cry of pain, but no sound came  out. The snow melted almost instantly, but he kept at it until there was a pile of it on her chest, gradually turning red.

 “Poetic way to die, isn’t it? The guy who put a hole in my dad’s head put a…hole in my chest.”

Peter’s breath caught in his throat. “No! You aren’t dying! I’ll get help!”

“Peter-”

“No!” he cut her off, hot tears pouring over his cold cheeks. “No! You can’t do this! I won’t let you!” He crouched down next to her, wrapping his arms around her shoulders in order to keep her warm.  She was already so cold…her lips were turning blue. “You can’t die, Mandy! I can’t take it! I won’t let you!”

“Peter…” Her voice was softer, further away, closer to leaving altogether.

“No! Not you too,” he sobbed, hugging her tighter. “I lost my mom and my dad and Uncle Ben—I won’t lose you too! I can’t take it!”

“I like being your intern, Peter.”

Peter choked out half a laugh. “You’re a good intern. Please, you can’t go. I need you.” Amanda didn’t respond. Peter continued to sob, refusing to relax his grip, as if it were the only thing holding her back from death.

“You got in the way,” Peter finally realized aloud, his shoulders shuddering with cold and sorrow. “Why would you do that, Mandy? Why?”

Amanda licked her lips slowly, slowly drawing in an agonized gulp of air. “Sometimes some people have to die,” she whispered hoarsely, forcing words out with her last breath. “Sometimes we get to pick those people. I’d rather pick me than you.”

Peter felt the words leave her.

He felt her go still.

He waited for her to take in another breath.

She didn’t.

 

A groan?

 

A whimper?

 

Anything?

 

Nothing.

 

 

She’d made her pick.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Um...sorry? (But it was in the warnings all along...)


	29. Broken

Everything was dark. All his memories were fuzzy. The first thing he discovered was that it was a exceptionally easy to breathe. He barely even had to breathe in to get enough air to hold his breath for a minute. Not that he was trying, of course.

There were strange smells, and stranger noises, and someone was holding his hand…

Peter pried his heavy eyelids open, blinking at the bright lights that stared back at him. With a quick glance downward, he found he was wearing an oxygen mask. He turned his head to look at his hand, and followed the hand up the arm to identify the person by his side. It took him a moment, but finally croaked out, “May.”

She started at his voice, but turned to him with a beaming smile. “Peter! Oh, thank God, you’re okay!” She leaned down and placed a kiss on his head. “When Tony called me…I assumed the worst.”

“What…happened? Am I in a hospital?”

“Yes. Don’t you remember?” She seemed very concerned, but Peter was too tired to really think about that.

He shook his head, which was a mistake, he soon realized. His neck was sore and stiff to the bone.

“You were in a fight,” May began quietly, brushing some wild locks of chestnut hair off his forehead. “Somehow you broke your leg in five places, and they put you through surgery to set it. You were out in the snow for hours until Tony found you, since the tracker in your suit was damaged.”

“I think I’m still cold,” he whispered, shifting around and realizing he wasn’t just sore in his neck. More like everywhere. Especially his left side.

May reached down to the end of the bed and grabbed another blanket, spreading in around his shoulders without missing a beat. The action sparked was seemed like a distant memory…or was it really that distant?

“Mandy…” he surprised even himself, but details of the fight with Scorpion stared to flow back to him, and now he was full of questions. “Where is she?”

May stared at him. “Who?”

“Amanda. Where is she?” He clawed the oxygen mask off his face, desperately staring at his aunt for an answer.

May drew in a long breath, her gaze flitting away for a moment. “Peter, Amanda was hurt very badly. She was already…dead…when Tony got there.”

_The guy who put a hole in my dad’s head put a…hole in my chest._

Peter shook his head, tears welling up in his eyes. “No. You’re lying. Mr. Stark could have saved her! I know he could have!”

May placed a hand on his shoulder. “The hospital staff did everything they could, Peter, I promise. She’s gone.”

  _Poetic way to die, isn’t it?_

“She can’t be,” Peter cried, trying to keep himself together for the sole reason that crying hurt. “You’re lying!”

“Oh, Peter,” May scooted out of her chair and knelt down next to him. “I wish I were lying.”

_I’d rather pick me than you._

“It was supposed to be me,” he sobbed turning over and gingerly moving closer to his aunt. “I was supposed to be the one who got hurt! It isn’t far, May, it should have been me!”

In the midst of the sorrow, Tony stepped into the room, concerned to find Peter sobbing in a hospital bed. “Hey, kid, what’s wrong?” He walked over, and Peter glanced up, silencing for half a moment.

Then he lunged. “This is all your fault!” he screamed, flying upright and desperately trying to hit the man at the end of his bed.

“Peter!” May grabbed him and tried to hold him back, but the woman wasn’t nearly strong enough.

“You made her leave! None of this would have happened if you hadn’t fired her!” He stumbled out of the bed, hospital gown and all.

“This isn’t my fault-”

“You sent her away and now she’s gone forever!” Peter began swinging his fists at tony for all his broken body was worth.

“I’m sorry! Come on, kid! Calm down before you hurt yourself!”

By now, several technicians had rushed into the room and were frantically trying to contain the teenager, and while they failed, a nurse ran back into the hall yelling for back up.

“Peter, please, calm down!” Not even May could reach him in his raging fit.

“This is your fault! I hate you!” Peter stumbled off his bed and landed on the floor with a cry of pain.

“Come on, Pete, what do you want, huh? Settle down!” Tony tried again to calm him.

“Sir, we need you to step outside for a moment,” A technician’s hand was on his arm, leading him to the door.

“I WANT MY MANDY BACK!” Peter scream echoed down the hallway just before a nurse plunged syringe full of sedatives into his arm.

* * *

“Could be…reaction to…drugs we gave him…”

“Would…so aggressive?”

Peter pealed his eyes open again, finding it much harder this time. He could feel restraining straps around his wrists, ankles, and waist. He tensed against them. His bed was surrounded by a greenish sheet, blocking his view from the voices beyond the divider. He didn’t need to see to recognize them, though. One was distinctly May’s, and one was Mr. Stark, and the third voice sounded familiar, but he couldn’t put his finger on it.

“Miss Harding appears to have been right in her concerns for his mental health,” the third voice was saying, hushed and almost secretively. “As soon as he wakes up, we’ll see about sending him down to the Psychiatric Ward.”

“What I’d like to know,” May butt in harshly, “is why in the world no one told me about this sooner. If there was a concern about my nephew’s state of mind, I should have been made aware of it.”

“There was no concern,” Mr. Stark said, a bit too loudly. “Amanda brought it to my attention, I deemed it to be not an issue, and we continued on with life. Peter was fine up until now.”

“Both of you, calm down,” came the third voice, belonging to a man. “It could have very well been the initial shock of waking up in an unfamiliar place. He should be up within an hour or two; we’ll ask him then. Miss Parker, do you mind coming with me to fill out some paperwork? There’s two more incident files that…” his voice trailed off as a pair of footsteps made their way out of the room.

Peter lay quietly, trying to wrap his head around the situation. The sheet surrounding his bed suddenly moved to the side, and Mr. Stark stepped in. Peter turned his head, and for a while, the two just stared at each other.

“You’re up,” Mr. Stark finally announced, breaking the silence.

“It’s the metabolism,” Peter whispered back. “Everything works faster.”

Mr. Stark nodded, his eyes searching the room for a place to linger.

“They think I’m going crazy, huh?”

Tony’s eyes darted back to Peter’s face. “They think you might be. Doesn’t mean you are.”

“Then why am I all tied up?”

“Everyone’s worried you might have another…outburst.”

“I won’t. Please, can you make them take these off?”

“They just left-”

“Please, Mr. Stark. I can’t stand feeling trapped. Take them off.” Peter’s chest was beginning to tighten, his palms began to sweat, and his thoughts started to spiral. The air felt heavy—too thick to breathe.

“I can’t, kid, the doctors won’t let anyone touch them.”

Peter arched his back, squirming and desperately trying to get out of the restraints. “Please! I don’t want to be trapped! Let me out!”

Tony turned to leave, unable to watch Peter fight at the restraints like a frantic animal. He hurried to the door glancing around for someone, anyone, who might have the authority to let Peter up.

He glanced back over his shoulder, cringing at the sight to the teenager, beginning to sob in the efforts to escape. He left the room. There was no way he could stand to watch it, and it wasn’t safe for Peter to be free. He could still hear him struggling, and he quickened his pace as he hurried down the hall to find that doctor.

 _Trauma-induced claustrophobia._  The words popped into his head as he speed walked away, remembering them front one of the many emails Amanda had sent him about “Peter’s mental state.” He’d ignored most of them, but now, it seemed as though Amanda may have had a point.

He slowed to a stop, then turned on his heels and marched back to Peter’s room. Doctors’ orders…who cared?

By now Peter’s screaming had attracted several nurses who were desperately trying to calm him down and frantically trying to decide whether he could be given more sedatives. Tony pushed his way through the middle of them. 

“Sir, you need to leave.” A female nurse grabbed his arm to pull him back.

Tony wrenched out of her grasp. “Yeah, no. All of you. Out.”

“I’m sorry, but you don’t have the authority to-”

“Look, miss-” he glanced at her badge “-Allison Page—I _built_ this hospital. So get out of _my_ room or I’ll have you fired. Kapeesh?”

Stunned, the nurse nodded, and back out of the room. The rest of the nurses followed in suit, and Tony carefully began undoing the straps around Peter’s feet.

Tears were pouring over his cheeks as he wailed and screamed for “Mandy.” Tony undid the other straps, and instantly Peter had scrambled off the bed and tried to crawl out the door, dragging his injured leg behind him.

“Peter, hey, look at me.” Tony grabbed his shoulders and pulled him back. “Calm down, buddy. See? You aren’t trapped anymore. Come on, deep breaths.”

Peter did not calm down. “Where is she?!” he screamed, beating his fists on Tony’s chest. “Where’s Mandy! I want Mandy!”

“She’s not here, Peter. She died in the fight.”

“No she didn’t! She’s not dead, she can’t be!”

“I’m sorry, Peter-”

“No you aren’t! You sent her away! Why would you do that to me!?” Peter finally collapsed into a sobbing heap on the tile floor.

“Cause I’m idiot sometimes.” Tony, pulled him upright off the cold floor, daring to put his arms around Peter’s shaking shoulders. “I didn’t know it would hurt you like that. I thought you hated her.”

“I loved her,” Peter choked out, burying his face in Tony’s shoulder, tears and snot collecting in a big circle on his shirt. “She was like a big sister. Just more awesome.”

“I’m so, so sorry Peter. She wanted to leave and if I was paying attention to you and not me for once in my life maybe I would have stopped her. I was the problem.”

“I forgive you.”

Peter sobbed for a solid hour, during which time May returned and just the sight of her made Peter cry even harder. It was almost as if he was just relieved to see that someone he loved was still alive. Finally, after a great deal of calming and coaxing and comforting from his aunt, he stopped asking for Amanda and settled down enough to be talked to.

He refused to go near the bed until he watched them take the restraining straps out of the room, but at last he was convinced to get off the floor and back on the bed. At last, he fell asleep with his head in May’s lap.

Tony watched from a chair at the end of the room, Peter curled in on himself and squirming as though trapped a nightmare.

It was then that Tony realized that maybe he _wasn’t_ the weakest, most broken person he knew of.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Welp, I guess all I can say is #sorrynotsorry...Honestly, I didn't want to kill Mandy off. I loved her character, and while I was writing this chapter I knew it was my last chance to officially un-kill her off. But I didn't. I stayed strong. And it hurt.
> 
> Hopefully you guys can enjoy Tony being a lot less of a jerk in this chapter...all he needed was a wake up call, I guess.
> 
> Don't forget to leave your thoughts in the comments!
> 
> ~Spinofflady


	30. Vader and the Shoe

Peter was desperately trying to pay attention to the Physical Therapist that was reviewing the range of motion in his hip, but the conversation May was having with one of the doctors in the hall was far more intriguing. He could only catch bits and pieces of the conversation, but so far, it sounded like he was in for more therapy, but he wasn’t sure what kind.

“Peter, please pay attention,” the therapist tapped his arm, jerking him back to the session. “I can’t accomplish anything if you won’t work with me.”

“Sorry,” Peter grinned sheepishly.

She looked at him. “You know, you’re really lucky you’re cute, otherwise no one would put up with you.”

He grinned even wider. Laura was by far his favorite PT, and he’d seen his fair share of them. He’d only been in the hospital for a few days, but his leg was healing so rapidly it took massive amount of Physical Therapy to keep up with it. Laura was definitely the best. As soon as she came in his room for the first time, Peter knew things weren’t going to be like all the other sessions. And they weren’t.

As it turned out, she was a huge Star Wars fan, and she always had on a different pair of Star Wars earrings. Peter’s personal favorites were the Millennium Falcon pair and the miniature light sabers that lit up when you squeezed them.

Today she was wearing little dangly Kyber crystals, and she’d gotten in trouble over them, since she wasn’t supposed to be wearing any hanging jewelry.

“Straighten your knee,” Laura instructed, writing some notes down on her clipboard. “And…bend it again.”

Peter obeyed, happy to find that it barely hurt at all. For having five displaced fractures in his leg, this wasn’t so bad.

“I think it’s time for another X-ray,” she told him looking over his leg.

Peter groaned. “ _Another_ one?”

“Yepo. Sorry. My fault if you get radiation poisoning.”

“What?” Peter squawked, fully engaged in the session now.

“Kidding. You’ll be fine. They’ll probably want another MRI for your concussion, too.” She stood to leave. “Oh! I almost forgot. What did Darth Vader say to the sinking boat he was on?”

He shrugged. “I dunno. What?”

“You have sailed me for the last time!”

Peter groaned again. “That’s the lamest joke I’ve _ever_ heard!”

“Yeah, well, my four year old niece came up with it, so that’s age appropriate comedic genius if you ask me.” She straightened her lab coat and headed for the door. “See ya later, Darth Vader!”

“Not too long, Obi-Wan!” Peter waved after her. He grabbed his phone, ready to send the joke to Ned. Ned would probably think it was the funniest thing on the planet. _What did Darth Vader…_ He stopped typing.

Vader!

It had been over a week since Mandy had passed! Vader would have been stuck all by himself in her apartment, probably starving and lonely and- Peter quickly dialed Mr. Stark’s number, and Tony promptly answered.

“Hey, kid, what’s up?” Tony greeted from the other end.

“Mandy’s dog! What happened to him? Did anyone go to get him?”

“The big old Shepherd? Not to my knowledge…”

“Please Mr. Stark, you’ve got to do something!” Peter pleaded desperately. “He’s stuck in her apartment and he’s hungry—he eats a ton of food—and he’s probably scared and I don’t think-”

“Whoa, whoa, whoa, slow down. I’ll find out the dog’s situation and tell you as soon as I find anything out, okay?”

Peter drew in a deep breath. “Okay. Hurry, please?”

“I’ll do it right now.”

“Thank you, Mr. Stark.”

“You’re welcome, Pete.”

Peter relaxed at the thought of Mr. Stark making sure Vader was okay, but his relaxation was cut short by the conversation still taking place outside his door. Now that Laura was gone, his perfect hearing allowed him to hear every word of the hushed conversation.

“And Peter never told you any of this?” The doctor was saying, probably to May.

“No. I only just found out what was happening with his little ‘internship.’ Stark and Peter both assured me that he would be safe. I never even thought about what might be happening to his mind.” Peter winced at the sadness weaved throughout his aunt’s tone.

“It’s not uncommon for these types of events to have long term effects,” the doctor continued. “Especially for cases around Peter’s age. From what we learned through Amanda’s emails, these minor panic attacks progressed to the point where they were almost destructive. This isn’t going to be a quick fix, Miss Parker, especially if Peter continues to do what he’s been doing.”

Peter hung his head. May was going to take away Spider-Man again. She didn’t know what it was like—to be able to _do_ something. He couldn’t stand to sit back and watch the world happen, watch idly as people were hurt and wronged. How could doing something good be so bad for him?

Not wanting to hear anymore of the conversation, Peter flipped the TV on to drown out the sound. Of course, it was on a news station, and reporters were still covering the most recent story. Hair-gel guy was on again.

“Authorities had no new information regarding the recent incident in downtown Queens. A hostile creature of unknown origin attacked two civilians, killing 20 year old Amanda Harding of Port Leyden, New York.”

Her picture was displayed on screen, an old one, and Peter looked away.

“Stark Industries intern Peter Parker was severely injured in the attack, and is recovering at the Howard and Maria Stark Memorial Hospital. Details on the extent of his injuries and recovery have not been released to the public.”

Great. Now all his friends would know he got attacked by the Scorpion, and now he’d have to be hounded for details at school, and now he’d have to make up a bunch of lies, and now he was one hundred percent sure he hated the Media.

His life just kept getting better.

* * *

It was only a few days later that Peter was discharged from the hospital, although his leg was still in a cast and he was on strict limited mobility. After living with Mandy’s lackadaisical rules and regulations, May felt like a prison guard, constantly checking on him and making sure he was okay. She wouldn’t even let him sleep with his door closed.

He was bombarded with calls from his school friends every day, and the only one he ever answered was Ned, who surprisingly didn’t ask for juicy detail and was simply concerned for the well being of his friend. Peter couldn’t have been more grateful, and shared as many details as he could manage just to say thank you.

 Finally, three days after his discharge, Peter received an email from Mr. Stark. It was short, but Peter read it so many times it might as well have been five paragraphs.

_Peter,_

_Vader is safe and sound. Amanda’s landlord called Animal Control ASAP when he heard the news. According to the neighbor Vader was only in the apt. for a day or two, and he had food and water. Right now he’s at the Caring Paws Animal Shelter is Port Leyden. Address is below._

_Tony Stark_

After his fourteenth time through the email Peter finally managed to process its contents. “May!” he shouted, scrambling out of his chair and grabbing his crutches. “We have to go to Port Leyden _right now!”_

* * *

“You want to see who?” the lady at the front desk of the animal shelter asked, furrowing her bushy eyebrows.

“Vader,” Peter repeated, frantically tapping his non-broken foot on the floor. “He’s a big black German Shepherd and he’s super mean but he’s nice once he stops trying to eat you alive.”

“Uh huh.” She _ever so slowly_ pulled something up on her computer. “Sorry. Internet’s down. Can’t find his file.” She turned around in the swivel chair. “Sharon!? We got a Shepherd in the back?!”

A grey haired lady peeked around the corner. “We got a what now, Dana?”

“Kid’s looking for a black Shepherd named Vader. Internet’s down and I can’t find his file. We got one of those?”

Sharon shrugged. “Dunno. I haven’t worked with the dogs in a couple days, I’ve been with the cats. I bet Dave’ll know.” She turned to holler over her shoulder for Dave. It took him at least five minutes to come, and he turned out to be older and more stooped over than Sharon was.

“Hey Dave,” Sharon began once he finally got there. “We got a black Shepherd named Vader in the back? Kid over there’s looking for him.”

“Don’t you have his file?” Dave asked.

“Internet’s down,” Dana informed him.

“Sharon aught’a know.”

“I’ve been with the cats,” Sharon shrugged.

“Oh, well. Is this a German Shepherd or a Dutch Shepherd?”

“German,” Peter jumped in.

“Gee, I don’t know if we got one. I’ve been cleaning out the cages so I haven’t even seen half the dogs. Ask Gloria.”

Sharon hollered around the corner for Gloria. Luckily, Gloria came promptly. “What?”

“We got a Shepherd in the back?” Dana asked swiveling side to side in her chair.

“How should I know? Ask Sharon.”

“I’ve been with the cats,” Sharon told her.

“Oh. You don’t have a file?”

“Internet’s down.”

That did it. “Can you people please stop repeating everything and just let me look for the dog myself!?” Peter shouted over the counter, surprising all four of them, and they stared at him in silence.

“The internet’s back up,” Dana said suddenly. “Yep, we got him. Boy, he’s mean.”

Peter groaned. “I told you that. Can I please see him now?”

“We don’t let people see the mean dogs,” Gloria put in.

“Insurance company doesn’t like it,” Dave explained.

“You can see the cats, though,” Sharon nodded to the back.

May finally stepped forward. “Listen. If one of you morons doesn’t take my nephew to see that dog _this instant_ , I will personally make sure that every single one of you is fired.”

The four shared a glance, and finally Sharon motioned for Peter to follow her. She made sure to point out where the cats where on the way to the kennels.

“He’s in here,” Sharon told him flatly. “I can’t stay. I gotta feed the cats.”

And with that, Peter was left in the noisy kennel alone. He crutched around through the rows of cages, searching for Vader. Most of the dogs were mutts, but as he neared the end of the cages, he began to grow worried. Vader was nowhere in sight.

Finally, checked the last kennel, finding in to be some Collie mix. Vader wasn’t here. Head hanging, he turned to leave. Suddenly, his eye caught a windowless door that was propped open just slightly. He approached it, discovering a light from inside. He pushed the door open a crack. In the room was a single kennel, marked “quarantine.”

And in the kennel was Vader.

Beaming, Peter flung open the door, kicked off a sneaker to prop the heavdoor open, and rushed up to the cage.

Vader leapt off his feet, jumped up on the wire and Peter’s face had been one inch closer the dog would have taken his nose off.

Surprised, Peter stumbled backward, Vader snarling so much that saliva dripped from his mouth as he paced up and down the edge of the cage. Peter was absolutely stunned. Vader had always been mean, but this…this was different.

The look in Vader’s eye didn’t have the same fire it used to. The look in Vader’s eye was just…gone. His eyes we empty, truly soulless, and Peter could see something that never could have seen before.

The look in Vader’s eyes was broken wide open. Shattered. Churning with sorrow, confusion, fear and more sorrow. Vader hadn’t been a week in his life without Mandy. And all of a sudden, she was just gone.

You can’t explain death to a dog. Unless they see it, and smell it, they will always think that their master is coming back. Vader hadn’t seen or smelled. Vader was simply left, and then carted off to a strange place and the dog that was Vader was hardly even there anymore.

Peter plopped down on the floor, as gently as he could to avoid hurting his leg.

Vader slinked back to his bed in the corner and lay down, watching Peter like a wolf on the hunt.

Peter had to do something. He couldn’t leave Vader like this. That would just break Mandy’s heart. “Hey boy,” he started awkwardly, never really having had a conversation with a dog before. “It’s me.”

Vader snarled.

“You forgot me already? Ouch, boy. Wasn’t it me who spent two hours playing tug of war with you every night?”

More snarling.

“Look, buddy. I know you miss her. I miss her too. I know not as much as you, cause you two were the best team that was probably ever on the face of the earth. But I loved her, and you loved her, and now she’s gone so maybe we should make do with each other.”

Vader didn’t snarl, so maybe he was considering it.

“I’ll never be as good as her, I know I won’t. But I promise I’ll take good care of you and I’ll even let you sleep on my bed the way Mandy did.”

Vader picked his head up at the mention of “Mandy.” Could he really recognize her name?

“Mandy?”

Vader cocked his head.

“Mandy.”

He pushed himself into a sitting position.

“Amanda.”

Vader threw back his head and gave a long, moaning howl, sniffed the air, then howled again.

“Amanda’s gone, Vader. She’s not…here anymore. And she won’t be coming back.”

Vader walked over the chain link kennel wall, and howled again almost like he was crying for his lost master. Peter scooted closer.

“I know. I miss her too. I miss her so much and it’s only been like two weeks. And it totally _sucks_ that the only one who knows how much I miss her is a _dog_ who can’t even understand what I’m saying.”

And then, Vader did the strangest thing Peter had ever seen any dog ever do in his entire life. He jumped up on the cage, knocked the latched open with his nose, walked out of the kennel and over the door. Grabbing Peter’s shoe in his mouth, he walked back to Peter and dropped the shoe in his lap.

Stunned that the dog had been able to escape the cage the entire time and confused as to what bringing him his shoe was supposed to mean, Peter just stared into the dog’s dark, broken eyes.

Vader stared back.

And somehow, each broken gaze understood the other, understood how much they _needed_ the other, and discovered that they had just enough broken pieces to _fix_ the other.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hopefully everyone understood the shoe reference...if not you can go back and read Chapter 21(Picking Some People) for clarification. 
> 
> Also, I apologize for all the blatant Star Wars references lol....
> 
> Thoughts?
> 
> ~Spinofflady


	31. Temporary Arrangements

“Remember,” May was saying from the front seat. “This is a _temporary_ arrangement. As soon as we find someone to take him, the dog leaves.”

“I know, May,” Peter grumbled, seated in the back next to Vader.

“He’s a working dog,” she went on. “He’s highly trained and I’m sure that in the right hands he can be saving lives. A dog like that shouldn’t be a pet. As soon as we get home, I’m going to contact the NYPD to see about their K9 program, so don’t be getting too attached.”

 _A bit late for that,_ Peter sighed internally, glancing at the dog, who was now curled up next to him. “But…he’s Mandy’s dog. I can’t just give him away!”

“Peter, we’ve been over this.” May looked at him through her rear view mirror. “Mandy would want him to have the best life possible. We can’t do that for him. We don’t even have space for a dog that big.”

“But he lived with Mandy and I for like…two months!”

“And she took him on a run almost every day. Are you planning on doing that?”

“I could do it before school! And I’ll take him to the park and feed him and brush him and I’ll even pitch in for his vet bills and-”

May held up a hand to silence him. “No, Peter. The answer is no. You know we don’t have the time and space for him. Keeping him wouldn’t be fair to Vader.”

Peter hung his head, placing a hand on Vader’s thick fur. “Fine.”

True to her word, May called the K9 program as soon as they arrived home. Vader perked up as soon as he entered the Parker’s apartment, and immediately made his way to Amanda’s old room. He searched it thoroughly, and finding no trace of his former master, he lay down just inside the door to Peter’s room. May’s phone call lasted only fifteen minutes, and she informed Peter that the program only excepted dogs from other K9 programs, and “unfortunately” Vader would have to stay for a little bit longer.

Peter couldn’t have been happier.

But May was serious about Vader leaving, and she practically banished him to the living room, even doing so much as to borrow a dog crate from a friend to put him in at night. She bought the smallest bags of dog food she could find and wouldn’t let Vader in either of their bedrooms. To make up for it, Peter would move to the living room and sleep next to the dog so he wouldn’t be so lonely.

And for the first week or so, life was normal. Peter went to school, sporting his crutches and being pestered with questions about being attacked by the Scorpion every spare minute between classes. He wasn’t sure if he hated it or not—it was nice to be paid attention too for once. Flash of course thought it was the funniest thing ever that Peter got beat up, and Michelle…Michelle just kept giving him really, really weird looks.

May went back to her regular job and kept searching for a home for Vader, and the dog just…existed. He wasn’t like his old self. His spunk and life seemed to have died with Amanda. Peter tried everything to make him happy, but to no avail.

Then the nightmares started.

And they weren’t exclusively _night_ mares.

Some of them happened in the middle of the day, at school, in the store, or just sitting on the couch. It happened multiple times per day, and everyone was beginning to realize that something was wrong with Peter Parker. One moment he was laughing along with all of his friends and the next the air was too thick to breathe and the next he was back in a dark alleyway watching Mandy get impaled by a Scorpion tail, or he was being smothered to death by concrete slabs, or he was running but his legs wouldn’t move and his brain couldn’t think fast enough.

Lots of doctors told him what was wrong, but they all told him something different.

“Anxiety.”

“Post Traumatic Stress Disorder.”

“You’re just grieving, this is natural.”

“Take this medication.”

“Try this therapy.”

“Maybe do some yoga in the morning?”

Peter tried everything the doctors told him to do ( _even_ the yoga), but the nightmares only got worse. For the first time in his life, he actually hated going to school. His grades were the lowest they had ever been, and he had actually _failed_  a Spanish quiz. Multiple times in a class he would start crying for absolutely no reason or have to run to the bathroom so that he didn’t freak out in front of his classmates.

The nurse had send him home because he’d thrown up in the cafeteria, but she didn’t know it was because Flash started telling stories about what’d he’d have done with the Scorpion’s intestines had he been giving the chance.

To use fewer words rather than many, Peter was absolutely _miserable._

He cried himself to sleep at night, only to wake up several hours later from another horrific dream. He could hardly eat a thing without feeling nauseous. He never smiled. He even declined Mr. Stark’s invitation to ride on the Stark Industries float in the Macy’s Thanksgiving Parade.

May tried to make him happy. She really did. And the few times Peter did smile it was because of his aunt, but he just couldn’t seem to escape the cloud of sadness that loomed over his head.

He was walking home from the library one Sunday afternoon, and as he was stopped at a crosswalk, the thought crossed his mind, and actually lingered awhile, to just start walking before the light indicated it was safe to cross. Would it really be so bad to just be…dead?

Monday afternoon, on the last week of school before Christmas Break, Peter was sitting at lunch alone. Ned had a fever and had skipped school, and Peter was pretty sure he just wanted to curled up in a hole and die. And then Michelle came up, plopped down across from him, and just watched him for a moment.

“You look more depressed than I do,” she said finally.

“Congratulations to me then.” Peter twirled his lumpy, cold, mashed potatoes around in circles with his fork.

“Also, when is the last time you slept? You look like a frickin’ zombie.”

“Last night,” he mumbled, propping his head up in his hand.

Michelle mockingly did the same.

“Do you want something?”

“Nah. I mean, you probably have something worth me pestering you for but…nah.”

Peter just stared at her, trying to figure out whether she was honest or teasing him.

She drew in a deep breath, eyes searching the room, trying to come up with a topic of conversation. “I saw your aunt is trying to get rid of that big black dog…”

“Yep.”

“Why?”

“I dunno. She says we don’t have the space for him.”

“You should bring him to the art class. I saw his picture, and I bet Miss Arthur would totally adopt him so we could work on painting shadows.”

“Like…bring him to school?”

“Yeah, why not?”

Michelle got up to throw her trash away, but Peter couldn’t stop thinking about her offer. Maybe if Vader came he would get excited again…it was worth a shot. Peter stopped by the art studio and the principal’s office to obtain permission to bring the dog to school. If Vader were to in anyway disrupt the other student, he was to leave the premise immediately.

May was more difficult to convince. Peter had to tell her over and over again that the art instructor might be interested in adopting him for May to even consider it. But this was the first time she had seen Peter motivated about anything in weeks, so she finally caved in.

May dropped Peter and Vader off out front Tuesday morning, and the two cautiously walked through the doors together. The usually chatter within the school halls grew louder as Vader walked by, but the dog paid no attention to anyone.

In Math, he lay quietly at Peter’s feet, never once making a sound.

In Chemistry, he held a stay under the table for a solid hour.

At lunch, the closest thing to begging he did was sniff the air.

Peter sent Vader with Michelle to the art class while he went to English, but he could hardly focus for the entire class. By the time everyone had started working on their essays, Peter was so dizzy he could hardly even see the words on his computer screen.

Behind him, Flash was obnoxiously babbling on and on about the horror movie he’d seen over the weekend. “-and there was this old grandma that got her teeth drilled out by a screwdriver, and it was honestly the lamest thing ever, cause the dude went to deep and just stuck the thing right into her brain so she didn’t even feel anything.”

Peter cringed at the images that tried to claw their way into his mind.

“But the dude that had his head squashed between two gong things was cool. The special effects looked so real. They even had him squirm for a little.”

Peter sucked in a gasp and jumped out of his seat, barely making it to the trash can across the room before throwing up the little bit of food he’d eaten for lunch. A unanimous “ewww” sounded throughout the room, but Peter hardly even heard them.

“What’s the matter Parker?” Flash taunted. “Got a weak stomach for misplaced anatomy?”

Chest heaving for air, Peter pushed the door open and stumbled out into the hallway, desperately trying to escape the pictures flooding his mind. Blood and brains spattered on the wall and sidewalk, bit of bone and flesh strewn among it…every breath he dragged in seemed to get less and less oxygen, and a pair of dead eyes stared back at him everywhere he looked.

His ears were roaring, everything was so loud. His limbs were heavy and he couldn’t hold himself up anymore…suddenly he was surrounded by people, thronging him from every side and staring at him with the same dead eyes, reaching out and grabbing at him and trying to corner him against the wall. He sank to the floor, unable to support himself any longer.

“Is he okay?”

“Somebody get the nurse!”

“I think he’s choking!”

Everyone in the crowd of students suddenly turned to see Vader dragging Michelle down the halls, barking and desperately trying to get to Peter. He was too strong for the girl, and he yanked his leash out of her hands with almost no effort. He wiggled through the people, dropping to all fours and belly crawling over to Peter, putting his body between him and the other students, still barking and trying to move them back.

Flash had somehow escaped the classroom, and was pushing his way through the crowd. He paused for a moment, as though shocked to see Peter in such a vulnerable state, but it took him only a minute to recover. He whipped out his phone to start videoing, despite the protesting of several other students.

Peter was curled up on the floor, shaking with tears, covering his ears to block out the noise. Vader nosed him, then turned and began clearing the area around him again.

“This is great,” Flash laughed, tapping Peter’s foot with his own.

Peter gasped and jerked it back as though Flash had burned him with hot iron. Flash laughed and did it again.

The dog noticed what was happening and began to bark at Flash, desperately trying to make him back off. Flash took only enough notice to through a kick in the dog’s general direction, cursing at him as he did so.

Vader kept barking, Peter kept screaming, Flash kept tapping, and the students were begging him to stop. “It’s not hurting anything,” Flash protested, kicking the dog back again. “Get out of here, stupid mutt!”

Flash tapped Peter in the stomach, and he curled in on himself gasping for air and getting none. That last tap was the last straw for the dog, with a final bark that sound his last warning, Vader lunged at Flash’s foot, chopping down on it with his powerful jaws.

Flash, along with everyone else, started screaming. Flash frantically began to scramble away, and Vader released his vice like bite, belly crawling back to Peter. By now the onlookers now contained several of the teachers who had been drawn to the commotion and were examining the bite on Flash’s foot.

He was screaming and wailing so loudly that no one could hear anything, and all the students were ordered back to their classrooms immediately. In all the chaos, no one saw Vader return to Peter’s side, curl up next to him and lick his chin until the fit had passed.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry this chapter took so long guys...I had a really big test and my aunt died so yeah....it's been a crazy week! I hope you enjoyed this chapter!
> 
> ~Spinofflady


	32. Heart to Heart

“Yes, I understand. Of course. Oh, there’s no need to—no, I don’t.” Peter sat quietly in the passenger seat of his aunt’s car, listening wordlessly to her phone conversation with principal Morita. Vader was in the backseat, gazing out the window with his intelligent brown eyes.

“No, he wasn’t trained to my knowledge. He belonged to a…family friend…who recently passed away. He does have some law enforcement background I believe.” May rolled her eyes at whatever was being said on the other end. “On what grounds are they going to press charges?”

Peter knew she was talking about the Thompson’s.

“No, I do not want to take this to court. What? Why?” May’s eyes grew wide. “Is that even legal?”

May was quiet for some time, finally pulling up in front of the apartment building. “Go on in, sweetie,” she whispered to Peter, covering up the speaker on her cell phone. Peter climbed out, grabbed Vader’s leash and walked slowly up to the building. The dog quietly entered the apartment, his head and tail low. Peter dropped his backpack next to the door, and surprised to find that he wasn’t hungry, he headed straight for the living room and plopped down on the couch. Vader followed him and sat down next to the window, his dark eyes fixed on Peter.

Peter’s ears were ringing and his mind was having trouble recalling the details of whatever happened at school. He could remember not feeling good in class, and he was pretty sure that he threw up at some point, and there were images—terrifying, gruesome images—and now he was starting to see them again.

Blood on his hands…staining the snow…screams of agony echoing down the alleys… Peter shut his eyes and covered his ears to block it out, but they were all in his head…it was like having a hundred different movies playing in his mind at once, all stuck repeating themselves over and over. Death…death…death… _it’s all your fault._ Your fault. Your fault. _Your fault…_

_. . ._

May couldn’t believe the idiotic statements she was hearing. The Thompson’s wanted them to get Vader _euthanized._ Euthanized! She could understand if they wanted him to go to the pound, or be sent to rigorous behavior training, but no, they wanted to _kill him._ Thankfully, the only way they could do that was if they could prove that Vader had attacked Flash with no reason…but that meant they would be taking the matter to court, and May knew that as soon as the court got involved, Vader probably didn’t stand a chance.

With a sigh, May made her way up to their apartment, offering a exasperated smile to the man she shared the elevator with. She opened the door, kicked her snow boots off, and suddenly noticed Peter pacing the living room, clawing at his own head as though it shouldn’t be attached to his body.

Her immediate instinct was to run to him and figure out how she could help, but the minute she started in his direction, he saw her and the clawing worsened. Tears were pouring down his cheeks.

The washing machine beeped in the other room, and Peter hands flew to his ears at the sound. May swallowed, remembering what he had told her about his extremely sensitive hearing.

“Peter,” she whispered, taking a few steps closer. “Calm down, honey.”

Peter slammed his head against the wall. “Get out!” He screamed, seemingly to no one in particular. “Get out of my head!”

May backed up again. She wasn’t going to be able to get anywhere near him. She suddenly noticed Vader slowly crawling on his belly, ears back and tail wagging, wiggling his way over to Peter, who as of yet had not noticed him. May watched, holding her breath as the dog crawled closer and closer, looking surprisingly like he knew how to handle the situation.

The dog was within a few feet away and directly in front of him, and Peter still hadn’t noticed. He was clawing at his head and eyes, as though trying to get rid of some painful poison coating his skin. Vader was finally close enough to announce his presence, and did so by placing his front paws on Peter’s feet, gazing up at him, as if trying to understand what to do next. Peter flinched at the dogs apparently sudden presence, but did not appear anymore panicked.

Vader sat up on his hind legs, front paws on Peter’s waist. Peter took relatively no notice. May bit her lip and glanced at the phone. Should she call for help? Even if Vader was able to approach Peter, what could he possibly do to help him?

It was as if the dog had heard her silent question, and as an answer, he fully jumped in order to paw Peter’s hands away from his head to stop the clawing. Peter put his hands back, sinking to the floor under the dog’s weight. He sat against the wall, yanking on his hair and crying for someone or something to get out of his head.

Vader pawed his hands away.

Peter put them back.

The process repeated for several minutes, becoming a battle of who would give up first. For a moment, it seemed to be Vader, who had apparently had enough and trotted over to his crate, sniffed around the box of dog related items, and selected a brush, carrying it back to Peter.

After a few more minutes of clawing and pawing, Vader successfully handed Peter the dog brush and wiggled into his lap, repeatedly sticking his head up and under the brush. Peter took the obvious hint and began to haphazardly run the brush over the dog’s ebony coat. Vader wasn’t satisfied. He shifted and wiggled and pawed until Peter had one hand on his rump to hold him still and one hand on the brush, running it over his back.

May watched in awe as Peter’s tears began to stop, his attention turning to the dog sprawled out on his lap. His hands were still shaking so hard he dropped the brush several times, but Vader was quick to grab the brush and pass it back even before Peter had the chance to get frustrated over it. She realized her leg was falling asleep from having stood for nearly an hour, and she shifted slowly to relieve the limb.

Peter’s grip on the brush was steadier, but he was slowly losing that grip as he began to fall asleep. Finally, he slumped over against the wall, his even breathing telling his aunt that he had slipped into a peaceful sleep. Vader shifted just enough to place himself in the right spot to serve as Peter’s pillow.

When Peter had been safely asleep for several minutes, May finally chose to approach. She squatted down next to the dog, placing a hand on his head.

“How’d you pull that off, huh? Who taught you to do all that?” she asked the dog, gazing her thumb between his ears. Vader just sighed.

“Did Amanda teach you that?”

The dog’s gaze brightened at the name of his former master.

“You’re a good boy, aren’t you? Why’d you have to take a chunk out of Flash’s foot? Maybe we could have kept you.”

Vader turned his head and nosed Peter’s scratched cheek, licking off a tiny trickle of red down the side of his face.

“You can help him better than I can,” May whispered softly, ever so gently moving the hair off Peter’s forehead to look at the red marks. “I don’t how that’s possible.”

Peter shifted in his sleep, wrapping an arm around the dog.

“Listen, dog,” May whispered, “If you are this important to him, than I won’t be the one to make you leave. Just help me keep Peter safe, even if it’s from himself, got it?”

Vader sighed in agreement.

. . .

Peter woke a half an hour later with a yawn, glancing up at his aunt curiously. She simply smiled, not wanting a verbal greeting to send him into another fit.

“I freaked out again, didn’t I?” He croaked softly, gently feeling his marred face.

May nodded and tried a soft response. “What happened?”

Peter shrugged and sat up. “There were all these horrible pictures in my head…like of Mandy and all soft of other stuff. I _heard_ someone telling me it was all my fault. It was a real voice. I couldn’t make it stop.”

May stared at him, her mouth slack.

“I’ve gone crazy, huh?” Peter starred at the floor, his left hand constantly twirling Vader’s fur around in circles.

“No,” May told him firmly. “Don’t ever call yourself crazy again.”

Peter glanced at her, raised, inflamed scratches covering his face. “What happened to me, May? Why am I like this now? I miss myself.”

May licked her lips and shook her head slowly. “I don’t know, baby. I wish I did. I wish I could just kiss it better for you.”

Peter smiled faintly. “I used to be happy. I never thought about it until now. I remember smiling at everything and laughing and looking forward to things and now…now I don’t do that anymore. It’s like I used up all the happy and I just don’t have any more to spare.”

May scooted around to Peter’s other side so the dog was no longer separating them, wrapping and arm around his hunched shoulders. “Is there anything I can do to help you be happy again?”

Peter was quiet. “Maybe…if Vader stayed? He helped me calm down…maybe he can help somehow.”

May squeezed his shoulders. “Honey, if I have anything to say about it, Vader isn’t going anywhere. But after what happened at school…”

“I know,” he mumbled softly. “Vader bit Flash. He can’t stay.”

May squeezed him again and opened her mouth to reply. The doorbell rang before she could get the words out, causing Peter to jump.

Vader scrambled up off the floor and charged at the door, barking and growling with all his might. May hurried over to the door, trying to pull him away so she could open it. Peter finally called him back, and May answered the door, shocked to find Tony Stark standing behind it.

“Y-yes?”

“May I come in?” He smiled impatiently.

May stepped aside to let him through the door. “Why are you here?”

“Because my lawyers called me about a certain dog who doesn’t know to keep his teeth out of certain little rich boys’ feet.” He glanced around the room in search of Peter, surprised he wasn’t already visible. “Where’s the kid?

“I don’t know, he was just here. Maybe he’s putting Vader in the other room.”

“Oh, is that his name? Vader? Sounds appropriate.” His eyes skimmed the room. “The lawyers are waiting downstairs…I tell them to come up when you want.”

“Lawyers? I don’t understand.”

Tony drew in a long breath and let it out even longer, clapping his hands together. “Okay. The school called my lawyers because I’m on file for emergency stuff and the Thompson’s are pressing charges so I figured you’d want someone to handle the case which is why I’m setting you up with my lawyers. Kapeesh?”

May’s mouth went slack. “Are you…serious?”

“Perfectly. That dog obviously means a lot to Peter. Speaking of which, where in the world is he?” Tony fished his cell out of his pocket. “Alright, you talk to the lawyers, I’ll talk to Peter.”

May nodded, dumbfounded.

Tony instructed the lawyers to come up and set off down the hall in search of Peter. The door to his bedroom was shut, so Tony quickly rapped on it. Barking erupted from inside.

“Vader, go lay down.” Came Peter’s voice, followed by a pair of footsteps headed for the door.

He opened it, and as soon as he laid eyes on Tony, his gaze immediately dropped to the floor, his face tucked out of view.

“Can we talk?” Tony asked, hoping he wouldn’t get shut out.

Peter shrugged and walked back to his bed, still hiding his face and turning his back to the door as he sat down. Tony walked in and sat down on his desk, locking eyes with the dog that was still glaring at him from the foot of Peter’s bed.

“That dog really can be terrifying,” Tony commented, hoping Peter would engage in conversation.

He didn’t.

“Look, Peter. I want to talk to you, but I’ll settle for me talking and you just listening. I just…gosh, I don’t even know where to start. I’m not good at this heart to heart stuff so just…bear with me.” He sucked in a deep breath.

“I want you to know that I didn’t fire Amanda. She quit because she couldn’t stand being around me, and when she quit I didn’t try to stop her. And I’m sorry for that. I didn’t realize how much she meant to you. I honestly thought you hated having a babysitter.

“And then when you started defending her…that’s when I started realizing my mistake. I just wouldn’t let myself believe it because I didn’t want to think I had taken yet another thing away from you.

“This whole thing is my fault, Peter. Right before you two fought that big Scorpion thing she came to tell me you were in trouble. I didn’t listen. I was sure that since you were with me you would be fine, and I know now I couldn’t have been more wrong. But I think you should hear what she said to me, what her last words to me were.”

Tony pulled out his cell phone, and hit play on the little snippet of the security recording. Amanda’s clear voice filled the room. “ _Alight, Stark. I give up. I hope someday something hurts you so much it teaches you how to care. But until then…don’t let anything hurt my Spider._ ”

Peter finally turned, revealing that his face, covered in swollen scratch marks, was now streaked with tears. “She really said that?” he whispered hoarsely. “She didn’t leave because she hated me?”

“She cared so much about you that she quit her very well paying job just to make me realize how badly I was treating you. I’m not good at emotions and stuff, and even I could see that she _loved_ you, Peter.”

Peter brushed the tears off his cheeks, only for them to be replaced seconds later.

“She confronted me time after time after time because she loved you. She wrote me thousands of emails concerning your safety because she loved you. She told me to my face that my heart was ‘cold and nonexistent’ because she loved you. She left because she loved you. She came back because she loved you. She _died_ because she _loved you._ I’m so, so sorry for anything I did to take her away from you. _”_

Peter wiped his eyes again. “Thank you, Mr. Stark.”

Tony stood awkwardly, trying to decide what to say next. “I don’t usually offer stuff like this,” he blurted out suddenly, “but would you like a hug, Peter?”

Peter smiled—genuinely smiled—through his tears, and nodded.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Took me forever to get this chapter out too, sorry guys...but hopefully this chapter will make up for it!


	33. The Trial

The next week and a half was a blur as Tony’s lawyer’s frantically put together a case for the soon coming trial. The Thompson’s were absolutely livid about the issue, and at the present every law in existence was pointing in their favor. 

Peter was forced to go to yet another therapist, but this time it somehow was supposed to be in relation to the case. The therapist was nice, and much better than any of the others, and the slight hint of a foreign accent in her voice held Peter’s attention for the entire time he was there. She was so blunt it would have been funny, but it reminded him too much of Amanda. Peter was wondering if frankness was something they taught in Psychology, because it seemed to be a reoccurring theme.

After the session, May and Mr. Stark’s lawyers met with her to talk, leaving Peter outside the door. He didn’t know why, especially since he didn’t even need super hearing to eavesdrop on the conversation.

“He’s got a laundry list of disorders,” the therapist was saying. “Anxiety, Major Depressive Disorder, PTSD—I’m even picking up on some acute Schizophrenia. He needs a heck of a lot more therapy than he’s getting.”

Peter rolled his eyes. He didn’t need therapy.

The conversation inside the room continued on and on, talking about the case and evidence, and whether or not some situation was applicable. Peter honestly wished he had just never brought Vader to school in the first place. His entire Christmas break was ruined—more than it already was—by fifteen stupid minutes of his life.

December 15th arrived cold and wet, and Peter reluctantly dressed for the trial. May was a mess, stressed and stuttering and frantically trying to locate her other shoe. The day was not looking good.

Mr. Stark couldn’t come to the trial because that would be too obvious, for which Peter was actually grateful, since he didn’t want anything turning into a spectacle for the Media that followed Tony Stark around. The court room was basically empty, besides a small gathering that had come to watch, and for the first half of the trial, Peter hardly paid any attention to the Prosecution’s argument. He simply stared at the black dog lying patiently on Peter’s feet, the warmth from the dog’s body soothing every jitter that rose in his stomach.

As he was finally called up to the witness stand, Peter noticed that several of his class mates were seated in the back, watching the case. He couldn’t tell from their faces, but from the ugly looks Michelle was given Flash’s dad, he was pretty sure they were on his side.

The Baliff presented him with a Bible, on which he swore to tell the truth, the whole truth, and nothing but the truth, so help him God. One of Mr. Stark’s lawyers stood up to question him.

“Good morning, Peter,” he greeted offering a smile. “How are you?”

“Uh…tired?”

A chuckle rippled through the jury and audience.

“Well then, I won’t keep you up here too long.” The lawyer was arranging his papers. “Peter, could you start off by telling the jury everything you remember on the day of question?”

“I don’t remember much,” he started nervously, wishing for the comforting warmth of Vader sleeping on his feet. “I brought Vader to school so that the art students could draw him. I had special permission from Principal Morita. Vader stayed with me all that morning and he didn’t do anything wrong. After lunch, I sent him with my classmate Michelle, who was the one that suggested I bring him in the first place. I went to my class, but I wasn’t feeling very good.”

Peter was cut off by the lawyer before he could continue. “What do you mean by that?”

“I was dizzy and I couldn’t focus and my heart was pounding for no reason. We didn’t even have test.”

“Thank you for clarifying. Please continue.”

“Flash was talking about this horror movie he’d seen, and at the time it was too much for me to handle and I got sick in the trash can and then ran out. I don’t remember anything from there on. Just being really scared.”

“What was the next thing you remember on that day?”

“Sitting with my aunt in the nurse’s office. It was waking up from a bad dream. I was scared but I didn’t remember any of it.”

“Do these kinds of episodes happen often?”

“Yeah, a bunch of times every day.”

“Are they usually intense?”

“Define intense.”

The judge laughed. “Future lawyer,” he nodded at Peter.

“Overpowering, out of your control,” the lawyer filled in.

“Oh, then yes. Always.”

“Do you feel like it’s in anyway…debilitating?”

“Yes-”

“Objection, your honor!” The prosecution attorney stood up. “Leading the witness.”

“Sustained.”

Mr. Stark’s lawyer looked annoyed. “Peter, could you please expound upon your previous answer?”

“Well, I haven’t slept the night through in a month or more.

“I promised I’d keep this short, but before I wrap up, is there anything else you’d like to share?”

Peter shook his head, unable to think of anything these people might deserve to know.

The cross-examination lawyer stood, his mouth twitching like he was ready to destroy the defense case in a matter of seconds. “Mr. Parker,” he began with a sneer, “you said that you didn’t remember much of the day in question, correct?”

“Yes.”

“Can you tell the jury anything specific that Flash said to you?”

“…No.”

“Do you know why Flash followed you into the hall?”

“No.”

“Do you have any recollection of him doing anything that might upset your dog?”

“No.”

“Was this dog trained to attack in the past?”

“Yes.”

“Is it true that the dog’s previous owner recently passed away?”

“Yes.”

“Has the dog acted aggressively to anyone in the past?”

“Yes.”

“Has he ever been aggressive toward you?”

Peter glanced over at the dog and hung his head. “Yes.”

“Did he ever try to bite you?”

“Yes.”

“On that occasion, was he given a command to bite you?”

Peter swallowed, knowing that his answer would shatter the defense case. “No.”

“Would you agree that the dog had a good reason to bite Flash?”

Peter opened his mouth to reply, but was cut off by a loud “Objection!”

He turned to look at the other lawyers, and followed their gazes to the back of the room. Everyone was staring at…Michelle? She had stood up, her eyes flashing as she glared at the judge, as if daring him to overrule her.

The judge raised his eye brows in amusement. “On what grounds?”

“On the grounds of…asking Peter for information he already said he didn’t know the answer to! All you’re doing is making him look like an idiot! If you want to know what happened, ask someone else who was there!” Michelle’s cheeks were flaming red at the gazes locked on her, but she didn’t back down in the slightest.

“Were you present at this event?”

“I was the one who brought in the dog.”

“Well, this certainly isn’t customary, but would you be willing to give your statement, young lady?” The judge seemed to like Michelle’s sudden boldness, which was fast fading. But Michelle nodded anyway, and slowly made her way up to take Peter’s seat.

The bailiff swore her in while everyone else watched in pure shock. “I’d like to know her side of the story,” the judge said simply. “I will question her for the benefit of both the prosecution and the defense. Now, what is your name young lady?”

“Michelle Jones.”

“What school do you attend?”

“Midtown High School.”

“According to Mr. Parker, he gave you the dog to take to your art class. Is this true?”

“Yes. I was taking him outside since he was getting really antsy.”

“How exactly was he ‘antsy’?”

“Well, he got up off the floor and staring pawing at the door and pacing around. I thought he had to use the bathroom or something, but when I opened the door her started pulling me down the hall.”

“Did he lead you to Peter?”

“No, he _dragged_ me to Peter.”

The judge smirked. “Then what happened?”

“There was a big crowd in the hallway, and everyone was shouting and looking at something. I didn’t know what was going on, but Vader started barking and he pulled out of my hands and ran right into the crowd. When I got closer, I saw that everyone was gathered around Parker, and he was rolling around on the floor and crying and shaking and kind of talking to himself. I didn’t know what was wrong with him.”

“And what did Vader do?”

“He went up to Peter and started making everyone back up. He just barked and pushed people back with his nose. Everyone but Flash took the hint.”

“At what point did Flash get bitten?”

“Well, Flash nudged Peter with his foot, and that freaked him out a lot. He kept doing it ‘cause he thought it was funny or something. Everyone was telling him to stop and when he didn’t, Vader bit him.”

The prosecution groaned as if Michelle had just told the most outrageous lie they’d ever heard.

“Oh, shut up!” she hurled at them. “Just ‘cause it hurts your case doesn’t mean it’s not true!”

“With all due respect, your honor,” one of the attorney’s said as she stood, “Miss Jones has no proof of what she’s asking us to believe.”

“I have proof!” Michelle spat back. “It’s on Flash’s phone! He was videoing the whole time!”

A quiet half gasp went through the audience as the judge’s gaze turned to Flash. The judge held out his hand, silently asking for the device in Flash’s grasp. An attorney reluctantly walked it up. He put in under a projector, and the image of the phone appeared on the screens for showing evidence.

Instead of clicking on the camera roll, he clicked on the “recently deleted” folder, and selected the most recent video. Everything Michelle had just described filled the screen, Vader barking, Flash tapping, students shouting at him to stop, and finally Flash yelling “Get out of here, stupid mutt!” before kicking the dog for the second time in the video.

The video ended with Flash screaming and cussing horrifically, and the audience was in shock. A jury member rose.

“Your honor,” he began. “I think we’ve seen enough. We have already come to a unanimous decision.”

“So has everyone else in this room,” the judge replied, glaring at Flash. “But for the record, say the verdict.”

“The jury finds the German Shepherd, Vader, and any people in association with him not guilty of any unlawful harm to Flash Thompson. The dog was defending not only his owner but himself from further physical abuse. The jury finds no reason for him to be euthanized.”

“Mr. Thompson will be required to give 150 volunteer service hours at a local animal shelter. Court is adjourned.” The prosecution flew into a frenzy of objections, but Peter hardly heard them. He was immediately on the floor, wrapping his arms around Vader’s sturdy neck, burying his face in the thick black fur.

“You hear that boy? You’re coming home.”

Vader’s tail thumped happily against the floor.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'M SORRY I'M SORRY I'M SORRY I KNOW THIS CHAPTER TOOK ABOUT FOREVER TO GET POSTED AND I'M VERY VERY SORRY!   
> (I was out of town again and I just didn't have the chance to write at all.)
> 
> Anyway, he's an update and I hope it wasn't insanely boring. 
> 
> Thoughts? Leave them in the comments!
> 
> ~Spinofflady


	34. The Scars That Define You

The court session concluded with an explanation of how Vader was performing a typical trained response to Peter, and something or other about how they could get him certified, and then May had a long conversation with the therapist while Flash’s parents yelled at their lawyers. Finally, they left the courthouse.

Peter and May drove in silence, Vader in the back, staring out at the cold dark night as they traveled the streets of Queens. Stopped at a red light, Peter finally broke the quiet.

“May?”

“Yeah, sweetie?”

“Are you gonna make Vader go somewhere else still?”

May stared at him, her mouth slack. Her eyes searched him, trying to see if he was just saying things. “Of course not! What Vader did for you…I’ve never seen anything like it. I would _never_ make him leave.”

“Really?”

“Peter, did you not hear any of the conversation I had with Dr. Andrews?” The light turned, and May pulled out into the intersection.

“I wasn’t really paying attention.”

“She said that if Vader proved he is as highly trained as he seems, we could get him certified as a service dog! No one will ever be able to take him away.”

“But…I don’t want that.”

May stared at him again, but for less time since she was driving. “…Why?”

Peter glanced down at his lap. “I’m not broken, May. I don’t want people to look at me like I am.”

Instead of responding, May pulled over in a parallel parking space. She turned to him, placing a finger under his chin to lift it. “Peter Parker,” she began, her eyes narrowed, “there is no reason to be ashamed of your scars. They define you. They tell your story. So maybe your scars are a little more obvious than the next person. That’s no reason to hide them away. Be proud of them. Wear them like a medal of honor. You _earned_ those scars, Peter. You earned them in a way no one else could. You are not broken. You do not need to be fixed. You are only hurt, and that dog is the way I think you’ll find healing. Do you understand?”

Unable to find words that would do his jumbled thoughts justice, Peter simply nodded.

“Now,” she said, putting the car back in gear, “where do you want dinner?” She was about to pull back out onto the main road, but five NYPD vehicles came screaming by, nearly clipping the side of their vehicle. She stayed put as another four flew past.

“Something’s wrong,” Peter announced decidedly as he began to pull off his jacket. “I have to help.”

“You will absolutely not!” May shouted, her voice on edge. “You don’t even have—you’re wearing the suit underneath your clothes…”

“Of course I’m wearing the suit under my clothes,” he replied quickly, wiggling out of his pants. “I was a courthouse; the place is teeming with criminals.”

May rolled her eyes. “Fine. Just be home before ten.”

“Got it.” Peter reached for the door.

“Peter!”

He stopped and looked back at his aunt.

“I love you.”

“I love you more, aunt May.”

* * *

Peter webbed his way after the squad cars, desperately trying to pinpoint their location. Whatever happening must be a big deal, because sirens were blaring all over the city. People were screaming and running down the streets, fire trucks and ambulances were careening down the road, but still, Peter could not figure out what was happening.

Suddenly, in an explosion of noise, a massive metal contraption burst out from inside a sky scraper, the building crumbling in on itself.

It was the Scorpion. Except it was much, much _bigger._

Its deadly claws were now the size of tractor trailers, the swinging tail taking out entire sides of buildings. It was going to destroy the entire city.

Peter immediately shot his way toward it. “Karen!” he shouted. “Give me info on that thing!”

“The machine appears to be powered by the Chitauri core. However, it is highly unstable, and the internal temperature of the machine is rising rapidly.  She portrayed a digital image across his screen, showing Mac Gargan at the controls. What did that madman _want?_

 “What’s the temperature?”

“Exactly 4,538 degrees.”

Peter’s eyes widened. “That thing could explode at any second! We’ve got to do something!”

“Would you like me to contact Tony Stark?”

“No!” Peter frantically scrambled up the side of the building. “Mr. Stark will just shoot at it and make it get even hotter! If it doesn’t keep it’s cool, we’re all in big trouble…pun not intended.”

The Scorpion seemed to be oddly aimless. There seemed to be no obvious intent to destroy anything, it wasn’t chasing after any of the people on the ground…what did it want? Well, it was time to find out.

“Hey, big guy! What’s with all the smashing? You know that’s the Hulk’s thing, right?”

Suddenly, it was very clear what the Scorpion wanted. It wanted Peter.

It came tearing after him, claws shedding the buildings as it scrambled in his direction. The giant scissors came snapping in his direction, nearly snatching him up in their sharp grasp. The cement roof in which the Scorpion stood was cracking under the massive weight. He had to get this thing out of the city…Peter knew he couldn’t fight as well out in the open, but he had no choice.

“Hey, up for a game of follow the leader?” he shouted, dashing off over the roofs.

Scorpion roared and slammed his claws into the cement.

“Too bad, we’re playing anyway.”

Roaring again, the Scorpion scrambled after him.  His scissoring claws chomping the air in half as he desperately reached out to chop Peter in two. What did this thing want—other than to kill him of course. Peter scurried down the side of a building, trying to put some distance between himself and the metal monster behind him. The Scorpion simply pushed the building over.

“Change of plans, Karen!” Peter hollered. “Find me a really big pile of snow!”

“The largest snow bank is four blocks to your left,” Karen replied. “Beginning GPS route now.”

Peter webbed his way to the closest building. “Keep up, Scissor-hands!”

Apparently, the Scorpion wasn’t a fan of the nicknames, or any kind of quippage for that matter. He threw his tail up and over his head, the massive stinger landing only inches from Peter, glowing red hot. Cops were still chasing them down below, and now there were several army trucks in the midst. Sirens blared all over the city. Then tenants in the surrounding apartment buildings were pouring out into the streets, screaming and frantically pushing their way away from the damage.

“Peter, would you like me to contact-”

“Karen, we are not dragging anyone else into this! I’m clearly the only the Scorpion is after! Do not contact anyone!”

The Scorpion was hot on his heals…literally. Peter could feel the heat radiating off the giant mechanism. “Karen! Temperature!”

“It is currently -18 degrees outside.”

“No, of the Scorpion!”

“The Scorpion’s temperature is now at 4,995 degrees…4,999… 5,045…”

“How is that thing even still working!? It’s almost to the temperature of the sun!!”

All the snow in the world wouldn’t cool the Scorpion down now, and Peter knew he needed a different plan, fast. What he wouldn’t give for one of Amanda’s electric bubbles…

But Amanda wasn’t here. He would have to do this all on his own. He wanted help. He didn’t want to fight this thing all by himself. But he simply couldn’t bring himself to involve anyone else who might be hurt. He had to stop the Scorpion. Even if it killed him, he couldn’t let anyone else die.

Peter stopped in his tracks, glancing around for anything he could use against it. He shot a web at one of the claws, but the web melted into liquid the minute it touched the metal extremity. This was going to be very, very bad.

“Karen, what the strongest webbing I’ve got?” Peter shouted, scrambling away again.

“Iron-web is the strongest substance you are equipped with. I’ll engage it for you.”

Peter shot the new webbing at the Scorpion, and it managed to make contact without melting instantly. This time it lasted about a minute before it disappeared. “Better than nothing,” Peter mumbled to himself, ducking behind a big sign to avoid being hit by the machine guns the army trucks were firing.

The guns stopped for half a second, and Peter swung from the sign to the building, sneaking a quick peak through the little window in the head of the Scorpion. All he could see was...flames. Mac wasn’t in there anymore… Peter sucked in a gasp. He must have burned up in his own machine! That meant the Scorpion was running on some sort of auto pilot. And if it was running on auto pilot, that meant it could be shut down!

Peter glanced upward, discovering several helicopters had gathered at the scene. A plan began to form in his mind. It was a risky plan, and he’d only have a minute to execute it. Peter shot a web at one of the helicopters and swung up to one of the landing skids. He fastened a web securely to it, then jumped to the next one. “Karen, can you get a message to the pilots?”

“I can radio them.”

“Great, tell them to fly up in they want to get out of this alive!”

Peter dropped down to the building next to the Scorpion, webbing the gigantic claws shut and attaching them to the helicopters. The helicopters were flying higher and higher. Karen started a one-minute timer as Peter shot a web around the Scorpions tail.  He held his breath, muscles tensed in preparation. One chance. He had once chance to get this right, and if he failed, a lot of people would die.

Karen’s timer ticked down, and Peter held his breath as the webs in his hand grew hot, burning through the suit. _15 seconds._ He glanced down over the side of the building, waiting for the last possible second to jump.

The helicopters were as high as they were going to get. The webs burned in his hands, but he refused to loosen his grip. The timer was beeping down. _Five…four…three…two…_

“Say good-bye, Lobster-butt!” Peter leapt off the building yanking the end of the tail down by the webs, driving straight into the metal head of the Scorpion.

It ceased all movement…

**_BOOM!_ **

The Scorpion exploded, as did all the webbing attached to it, including the part wrapped around Peter’s hands. Peter screamed and released the web, but not before the melting web had splattered all over his front. It burned, worse than anything he’d ever felt. The front of his suit sizzled from the heat, burning and stinging and throbbing with every beat of his heart.

Now he was falling…he reached out and snagged the wall, frantically scrambling up and away. His vision was tunneling, all he could feel was pain, he kept moving forward, trying to leave the scene before he passed out and was discovered by unwanted company.

Voices…he could hear voices. They weren’t scary ones, not like he heard in his nightmares. Were they in his head? Where they real?

His hands couldn’t take anymore, so he stopped in the middle of the wall, and with every ounce of grit he had left, webbed himself to the roof. He landed on his stomach, the cement shredding his burned chest like a cheese grater. He sucked in a massive gulp of air and rolled over, yanking off the mask. He could feel the melted web eating away at his chest, dripping into little crevasses of his skin…suddenly a noise came from behind him, a heavy noise.

He could see a figure, just the outline. He really, really hoped it wasn’t the Scorpion. No…it was Mr. Stark! Peter smiled crookedly, mostly because a little of the web had gotten on his face. The Scorpion was gone. He’d defeated it all by himself. Queens was safe. Aunt May was safe. That was all that mattered.

Mr. Stark was suddenly beside him, blurry and moving too quickly to really see, but Peter knew it was him. He was pulling off his helmet, putting it over Peter’s face, telling FRIDAY to turn on the oxygen…it was okay now. Peter knew it was.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> YOU GUYS. THERE IS ONLY oNe mOrE cHaPtEr!!!! AHHHHHHH!!!


	35. Stepping Forward

The air smelled funny.

Almost like chemicals, but there was a hint of something way less smelly than ammonia or formaldehyde. He opened his eyes, discovering that he was in a hospital room. However, this was the classiest hospital room he’d ever been in. The walls weren’t a boring white, they were a light gray. The floor were a grayish fake hardwood, and there were framed pictures on the wall. The blanket covering him was charcoal colored fleece, and he could hear jazz music playing from the hallway. He glanced over the side of his bed, finding Vader asleep on the floor. Peter smiled.

The next thing he realized was that his hand were really stiff. He could hardly wiggle his fingers at all. Confused, he pulled them out from under the blanket and stared at them in shock. Most of his hands were covered in gauze and bandages, but for the parts that were visible, his raw skin was coated in flaming red blisters.

The fingers on his left hand wouldn’t uncurl, so he tried to straighten them with his other hand.

“Ah ah. Don’t force them, kid.”

Peter turned his head, discovering Mr. Stark sitting in a chair beside his bed. He opened his mouth to reply, but nothing came out. He stared at them man in confusion.

“Relax, Peter. The doctors had to operate on your chest and throat. You’ll get your voice back soon.”

Peter gave a tiny nod, hoping it would cue Mr. Stark to keep talking. It didn’t, so Peter tried his voice again, but only managed to produce a soft croaking sound. Mr. Stark held up a hand. “Don’t talk. It’s making me feel worse.”

Peter clamped his mouth shut.

“Listen, Pete. I know these last few weeks I’ve been pretty…miserable. I’m dealing with the repercussions of my past so much that I didn’t have time to help you deal with yours. And that’s not right, because as your…mentor…teacher…father figure…whatever you want to call it, I’m supposed to be there for you, and I wasn’t. I guess I just don’t know how.”

Peter wanted so desperately to tell him it was okay and that he was sorry for burning his fancy suit up, but he couldn’t even write it down.

“What you did last night Peter…I don’t even know what to say. You were willing to sacrifice yourself for those people. You almost did. I’ve never said this to anyone, but I think you’re the only person I’ve ever met who actually deserves it. I’m proud of you, Peter Parker. And the world is too.”

Peter smiled, not even able to come up with words he wanted to say.

Mr. Stark glanced around the room, searching for something else to say. He stood suddenly and forced out “Well, I better go tell your aunt that you’re awake. She’s a nervous wreck. We had to ban her from your room to keep her from crying all over the equipment.”

Peter gave a chuckle, but the sound was so weird he immediately quieted nearly out of embarrassment.

May arrived blubbering and ready to dote all over her precious brave stupid wonderful little baby, and showered him in kisses until it was time for him to be taken for the surgery on his hands. Vader wasn’t exactly happy to see Peter taken into a room where he couldn’t follow, so Peter put in him in a sit/stay, and according to the nurses he stayed there in the hallway outside of surgery until May dragged him back to the room four hours later.

Over the next few days, Peter was stuck in the hospital to recover. But Ned came by several times and brought his collection of Star Wars and Pirates of the Caribbean DVDs, and by the time they’d finished all of them, Peter was finally starting to get his voice back.

His hands and chest felt fine, but the way they looked was a different story. He’d needed to have two thirds of the skin on his chest and hands removed and replaced, so now he had stitches all over from where the new skin was attached. It didn’t hurt at all, it was just ugly.

On the parts that hadn’t been replaced, his skin was turning blotchy and disfigured, and even though he’d never been vain about how he looked, he didn’t even want to look in a mirror.

When he was finally discharged, he informed May in the loudest whisper he could manage that he wanted Thai for lunch and then he was going back home to watch stupid Hallmark movies on his own couch until he barfed from all the cliché romance.

May said he better not barf on her couch until his hands were well enough to clean the mess up himself.

They ended up getting their Thai to go because Peter had an “episode” in the restaurant while they were waiting, but luckily the owner had allowed Vader inside and the dog calmly lead Peter outside and away from prying eyes. May said nothing about the incident, but Peter knew exactly what her silent looks meant.

“May?” Peter rasped while they ate lunch. “Can I be homeschooled next semester?”

“What? Why on earth would you want to be homeschooled?”

“I heard that homeschooled students had a higher chance of getting into the University of their choice, and that they have more flexibility to pursue their passions, and that it allows-”

“Okay, but _why?_ You love your school.”

Peter hung his head. “I just…I don’t really want to go back after what happened. People will never see me the same way. I’ll miss school but…it’s not worth getting teased. Besides, they’ll never let Vader come back to school, even if we got him certified. Which…I guess we kinda have to do…we need each other.” Vader glanced up, his ears pricked. He ambled off his place on his bed and lay down behind Peter’s chair. Peter grinned. “I was nervous. I can’t believe he could tell.”

May smiled. “I guess I should say something encouraging, but I don’t blame you. I don’t think it’s good for you to stay at home all the time, but I don’t want you getting picked on or anything else. If you really want to stay home, I’ll see if I can find another option.”

The days until Christmas ticked down. The lady from the service dog place came and gave Vader a bunch of tests, then asked for a bunch of paperwork, then had them sign a bunch of forms. Vader looked remarkably proud for a dog when he learned he had passed. May talked to the school about Vader, and of course, they said he was banned from the premises.

Finally, Christmas day rolled around. May and Peter slept in until ten, but finally woke and gathered in the living room. They discovered Vader gazing longingly at a giant rawhide bone under the tree, a thin string of drool dripping from his mouth. After May snapped her “necessary” pictures, Peter gave him the bone. Needless to say, he was occupied for the rest of the morning.

The best present of all was the new suit from Mr. Stark, with a neatly typed note about how incredibly _fireproof_ this one was. Peter immediately tried on the mask, glad to find that Karen was still a feature. He even let May try it on so she could meet the AI. May said she wished she had a Karen.

The rest of the day was quiet, until Ned texted and asked if he could come over. Of course, Peter said he could, but was a little confused when Ned asked if he was in his pajamas. He wasn’t, but he was still very curious as to how that was relevant. Ned had seen him in nothing but his underwear. Why did he care if he was wearing pajamas or not?

At around three in the afternoon, the doorbell rang. Then it rang again. Peter made his way to the door, struggling to open it with his stiff hands.

He looked out and stared.

There was Ned. And Michelle. And Cindy. And Abraham. And Lacey. And Matt and Betty and Jason and Sarah and Owen and Nicole and the entire hallway was filled with his schoolmates.

And Peter couldn’t talk again.

Ned was grinning ear to ear, and even Michelle was kind of smiling a little. Cindy stepped forward. “We heard that the school was going to ban Vader, and we all saw what he did for you. We also heard that because Vader can’t come to school, you might not come either. Long story short-”

“We protested,” Michelle jumped in. “Sorry, but your long story shorts are still long.”

Cindy rolled her eyes and went on. “We want you in school, Peter. You’re our friend. And if Vader is your ticket to being in school, then we are going to make sure he comes too.” She reached back into the crowd of students and somehow grabbed a box. There was a big bow in the center with the words “to Peter and Vader” written in sharpie next to the bow.

Still speechless, Peter flipped back the cover of the box. He pulled out its contents, trying to decipher exactly what it was. He suddenly realized it was a service dog vest, with Vader’s name embroidered on either side, with patches and buttons from each club and class Peter was in. There was also a custom made school ID card attached to it, which was also just for Vader.

Stunned, Peter stared at the group in the hallway. “I don’t know what to say,” he whispered, secretly pinching his own leg just to make sure this was really happening.

“Don’t say anything!” Ned squealed. (Yes, squealed.) “Put it on the dog already!”

Peter called to the dog, who reluctantly appeared with a still massive bone in his mouth, and stared curiously at the people in the hall. Peter knelt down and let Vader sniff the vest, and the dog’s tail began to wag as Peter draped it over his back and buckled it into place. Both stood, Peter beaming.

“I don’t know how to thank you guys,” he told them softly. “This means so much.”

“Yeah, we know,” Michelle grinned. “Just at school on January 4th, Parker. No excuses.”

Everyone laughed as the students filed down the hallway back toward the stairs and elevator. Shouts of “Merry Christmas!” came along with waves goodbye. May was in tears from her place in the living room, and as soon as the door was shut, she came over to inspect Vader’s new apparel.

“I have literally the best friends on planet earth,” Peter said to no one in particular.

“Yes, you do,” May squeezed his shoulders.

* * *

Peter stood in front of his school, staring up at the building with a lump in his throat and butterflies in his stomach. Either he was going to puke or pass out—maybe both. This was his first day back to school since the incident last semester, and all he wanted to do was run away. Vader sat beside him, obviously confused as to why they were standing out in the snow and cold.

“Look who it is,” came a voice from behind him.

Peter whirled around. There was Michelle, an actual smile on her face. “You came. I kinda thought you wouldn’t.”

“I’m kinda regretting it,” Peter smiled back sheepishly.

“Nervous?” Michelle came up next to him.

“Very.”

“Eh, don’t be. Flash didn’t even have the guts to walk in the front door. He had someone let him in through the cafeteria.”

“You just made that up, didn’t you?”

“Yes. But I haven’t seen him, have you?”

Peter scanned the snow covered lawn and shook his head. “But I doubt he’d want to be outside in this cold.”

“Nah, he wouldn’t care. His heart is at least thirty degrees colder than it is out here.”

Peter laughed.

“Hey, this fell out of your bag,” Michelle tactfully handed him a wadded up…oh, no. It was his mask.

Peter dropped the dog’s leash and swung his backpack around, shoving the mask into the first pouch. “I…uh..thanks. That was leftover from-”

Michelle held up a finger. “Peter, it’s been established that you are a terrible liar. Just don’t. I already knew.”

“You…did?”

“Yeah, since we had that project together. I had my suspicions long before then, but then Spider-Man showed up in a hospital and had a “Mandy” put a dancing heart on his butt.”

Peter’s cheeks flushed redder than they already were. “I _almost_ forgot about that.”

“Oh, trust me. I’ll _never_ forget that.” She grinned as though replaying the moment in her mind. “Who else knows?”

“Ned and my Aunt. Both not on purpose.”

“And obviously Amanda did.”

“Yep.”

“She seemed fun.”

“She was.”

“You miss her?”

“A lot.”

“You got rid of the Scorpion for her, though.”

“I did that for everyone.”

“She saved you and you still haven’t done some big act in her honor yet? Have you not seen a single movie ever?”

“I have…I just…didn’t think about it.”

“Well…maybe your opportunity to do it is right now.” Michelle offered him a smiled and jogged up the front door of the school.

Peter swallowed. Michelle was right. This was his chance. Mandy would want him to walk right up to that door with his head high and his shoulders square. Peter straightened his backpack and gathered up Vader’s leash. The glanced at the scarring on his hands. It was a new year. A chance to start over. To show the world who he really was.

He had friends who would stand up and even start a protest for him, even if some of them only knew him from his viral wisdom teeth video. He had the best aunt ever, who was frankly a better mom that he could even ask for. He was Spider-Man! That was incredible all on its own. So he had some scars. Who cared? They were his story, and a pretty dang awesome story at that.

“Let’s do this boy,” Peter told the dog, stepping forward. Vader stepped forward with him. “For Mandy.”

**THE END**

**or shall we say**

_**THE BEGINNING** _

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> You guys...this is it. This is the end...holy crap.
> 
> This book has taken me on such an incredible journey. Thank you all for your wonderful encouraging comments, and for all the support you gave me by reading this story. I hope that it was everything you expected it to be!
> 
> Now, there is a teeny tiny chance I will write a few one-shot sequels to this story, so keep your eyes peeled for them! 
> 
> Thank you again for all your support!
> 
> ~Spinofflady


	36. Author's Announcement

Hey guys!

I have a very special message for you.............I JUST POSTED THE FIRST SEQUEL ONE SHOT! The title is "The Scars That Define You" and it will be focused on Peter and Vader. This first chapter is short, but it's at least something lol. Just scroll down and click on the next work in series button to read it!

I hope you'll enjoy the new stories!

~Spinofflady


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